SHRINE 


PAUL  GWYNNE 


w. 


THE    PAGAN   AT   THE    SHRINE 


THE  PAGAN  AT  THE 
SHRINE 


BY 

PAUL    GWYNNE 

AUTHOR    OF    "  MARTA  " 


THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

LONDON:   MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LTD. 
1903 

An  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,   1903, 
BT   THE   MACMILLAN    COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped  March,  1903. 


NottaooD 

J.  8.  Cwhing  *  Co.  —  Btrwick  t  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  MM*,  U.S.A. 


"  BUT  let  my  due  feet  never  fail 
To  walk  the  studious  cloisters  pale, 
And  love  the  high  embowe'd  roof, 
With  antique  pillars  massy  proof, 
And  storied  windows  richly  dight, 
Casting  a  dim  religious  light : 
There  let  the  pealing  organ  blow, 
To  the  full-voiced  quire  below, 
In  service  high,  and  anthems  clear, 
As  may  with  sweetness,  through  mine  ear, 
Dissolve  me  into  ecstasies, 
And  bring  all  heaven  before  mine  eyes." 

//  Penseroso. 


2229071 


CHAPTER   I 

"  For  ver  3.  la  Pilarica 
Venimos  de  Cala  Torao 
Venimos  en  la  perrera 
Jesiis  ;  lo  que  hemos  gastdo  !  " 1 

Gigantes  y  Cabezudos. 

SANTA  FE  is  a  city  of  some  forty  thousand  souls  in 
the  South  of  Spain ;  it  does  many  things  in  general 
to  earn  a  living,  but  not  much  in  particular.  In  the 
first  place,  as  you  may  gather  from  its  name,  it  is  a 
most  religious  city  and  famed  for  its  processions.  It 
claims  the  sugar  factories  of  the  vega,  it  claims  the  fish- 
ing trade  of  Cinco  Caminos,  it  claims  the  very  good 
business  in  olive  oil  that  passes  through  it  to  the  sea, 
coming  from  Valamo.  It  claims,  with  greater  justice, 
a  trade  in  wine  and  raisins,  it  tins  a  few  unwilling  little 
fish  that  vainly  expostulate,  "  But  we're  not  sardines  !  " 
it  smokes  a  deal  of  tobacco,  drinks  a  veritable  ocean  of 
coffee,  has  its  own  opinions,  and  trusts  in  Providence. 
The  most  conspicuous  building  is  the  bull-ring,  and 
the  cathedral  is  a  very  good  second. 

To  give  some  idea  of  the  importance  of  this  fane  it 
may  be  recorded  that  the  annual  consumption  of  wax 

1 "  To  see  Our  Lady  of  the  Pillar 

Forth  from  our  poor  home  we  went, 
Travelling  in  the  dog's  compartment. 
God !     The  money  we  have  spent !  " 

Chorus  of  poor  rustics  —  Holy  Week  in 
Zaragoza. 

B  I 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

candles  is  nearly  four  thousand  pounds  by  weight, 
and  of  oil  very  little  less.  The  wine  consumed  at  mass 
would  reach,  in  one  year,  nearly  a  thousand  gallons, 
and  the  incense  burned,  "  una  barbaridad  "  ! 

Outside  the  great  porch  the  public  letter-writer  used 
to  sit,  and  girls  would  come  to  him  to  have  their  letters 
read  or  to  dictate  a  reply.  Here  would  they  stand,  all 
giggling,  whilst  the  old  man's  patience  lasted,  and  then 
his  wrinkled  face  and  shining  eye-glasses  would  come 
peering  at  them  round  the  screen,  and  his  quavering 
voice  would  protest,  "  Come,  my  lady,  come  !  Are  we 
going  to  write  a  letter  to-day  or  not  ? " 

And  when  they  found  that  he  was  not  laughing  at 
them  at  all,  but,  on  the  contrary,  very  much  in  earnest, 
they  would  become  serious  also.  Then  the  dictation 
would  commence  :  — 

"DEAR  PEPE " 

And  after  much  sucking  of  the  fore-finger  and  look- 
ing up  at  the  cathedral  tower  for  inspiration,  the  business 
always  took  precisely  the  same  course.  The  fair  one 
would  lean  her  bare  elbows  on  the  little  table,  her 
cheeks  upon  her  hands,  and  becoming  confidential, 
would  remark,  "  I  want  to  tell  him  so-and-so  and  so- 
and-so,  but  I  don't  know  how  to  put  it."  Whereupon 
the  scribe  would  answer  that  the  difficulty,  "  if  dex- 
terously encountered,  was  not  insuperable,"  and  after 
much  scratching  of  the  quill  would  read  his  effort 
aloud,  generally  with  the  warmest  reception. 

There  were  times,  however,  when  the  fair  one  was 
doubtful,  and  even  a  little  reproachful  as  to  the  shades 
of  meaning  which  the  writer  had  failed  to  catch,  and 
then  the  good  man  would  tear  up  the  paper,  select  a 
fresh  sheet,  and  proclaim  that  he  had  now  transformed 
himself  into  a  mere  machine  for  writing  at  dictation, 
having  seen  the  folly  of  trying  to  catch  the  ideas  of 

2 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

people  who  did  not  know  their  own  minds.  This  plan 
was  always  successful,  for  it  mostly  happened  that 
Inspiration,  easily  frightened  away  at  the  best  of  times, 
would  take  herself  off  on  the  wings  of  the  wind  at  the 
very  suggestion  of  dispute.  And  if  the  damsel  made 
bold  to  carry  it  off  the  old  letter-writer  would  thrust 
his  tongue  out  and  cackle  at  every  word  that  he 
scratched  upon  the  paper,  and  as  tender  passions  are 
not  easily  dictated  under  these  conditions  the  victory 
lay  with  the  strong. 

To  pass  from  the  fierce  sunshine  of  the  sweltering 
market-place  where  Time  is  steadily  goading  on  the 
oxen  that  draw  the  wine  cart,  into  the  coolness  and 
gloom  of  the  cathedral,  where  Time  is  not,  is  as  sudden 
a  transition  as  the  impressionist  can  wish  for. 

Yonder,  in  a  little  chapel  on  the  north,  is  the  wax 
image  of  San  Pedro,  patron  saint  of  Santa  Fe.  It  is 
contended  that  on  the  Eve  of  the  Crucifixion  the  image 
shows  signs  of  life,  moves,  sighs  and  trembles,  and,  for 
many  years,  on  the  day  after  the  Crucifixion  the  as- 
tonished populace  used  to  perceive  that  the  key  had 
changed  from  one  hand  to  the  other.  This,  so  some 
said,  took  place  at  cock-crow,  before  the  doors  of  the 
cathedral  were  flung  open  on  Easter  morn. 

Santa  Fe  even  now  is  celebrated  for  its  processions, 
but  it  used  to  be  famed  for  religious  pomp  of  every 
kind. 

Thus  in  Holy  Week  there  were  passion  plays,  in 
which  people  of  repute  took  leading  parts,  and  Corpus 
Cristi  was  the  greatest  day  in  the  year,  when  the  bal- 
conies and  windows  were  hung  with  damask,  silk  cloths, 
or  even  coloured  blankets,  whilst  the  Host  went  through 
the  city  escorted  by  fixed  bayonets. 

And  there  was  dancing  of  pretty  girls  in  front  of  the 
great  cathedral  altar  to  the  twanging  of  guitars,  to  the 

3 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

delight  of  the  peasantry  from  the  hillside  all  around 
and  the  scandal  of  any  Englishman,  not  to  the  manner 
born,  who  happened  to  pass  that  way.  And  then  the 
religious  play,  sometimes  from  the  Old  Testament, 
sometimes  from  the  New  —  what  an  excitement ! 

It  used  to  be  acted  in  the  great  central  square,  with 
eager  faces  at  all  the  balconies  around  and  people  on 
the  housetops,  whilst  down  below,  the  booths  where 
sweets  and  toys  and  fans  were  sold  throughout  the  fair, 
accommodated  their  quota  of  children  from  seven  years 
old  to  seventy,  those  who  had  teeth  chewing  nuts,  and 
those  who  were  toothless  chewing  the  cud  of  fancy, 
casting  their  minds  back  over  many  a  Holy  Week,  the 
Holy  Week  when  they  were  courting,  the  Holy  Week 
when  Pepe  came  back  from  the  war,  aye !  and  the  Holy 
Week  when  the  white-robed  angels  masquerading  yon- 
der had  been  replaced  by  a  bivouac  of  French  infantry, 
and  many  a  woman's  cry  of  despair  went  upward  from 
the  balconies  around. 

The  actors  used  to  be  chosen  from  among  the  most 
zealous,  pious,  and  presentable.  I  must  not  omit  the 
last  of  these  adjectives,  for  many  were  the  aspirants  of 
uncomely  countenance  to  whom  the  good  priest  would 
say  with  saintly  candour,  "  Son,  thy  piety  is  great  among 
men,  thy  charity  unbounded,  but  thou  art  cross-eyed." 

It  must  not  be  imagined  that  every  r61e  was  thus 
eagerly  competed  for.  Several  years  once  passed  with- 
out a  single  Judas  Iscariot  being  obtainable,  and  had 
you  lived  in  Santa  Fe  you  would  know  the  reason. 

For  the  people  take  these  things  very  much  in  earnest, 
and  Judas  Iscariot  has  been  seen  with  his  robe  girt 
round  his  loins  fleeing  towards  the  hill,  and  followed  by 
slingers  and  sharp-shooters.  And  after  these  events 
it  was  only  by  artifice  that  either  a  Satan  or  an  Iscariot 
could  be  secured  for  Holy  Week  proceedings. 

4 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

For  some  little  time  beforehand  the  father  confessors 
would  watch  for  the  most  suitable  persons  who  came  to 
confession,  and  when  the  hearing  was  over  would  say  to 
the  sinner  of  their  choice,  "For  dealing  falsely  with  thy 
brother  in  accounts,  fifty  paternosters ;  for  bearing  false 
witness  before  the  judge,  a  hundred  reals  in  charity,  and 
for  coveting  thy  neighbour's  wife,  thou  shalt  be  Judas 
Iscariot  in  the  play  f" 

These  terrible  words  at  length  became  so  dreaded 
that  never  a  man  Jack  could  be  persuaded  to  confess 
for  fully  two  months  preceding  Holy  Week,  and  there 
are  not  wanting  people  who  affirm  that  this  was  the 
origin  of  the  present  generation  of  males  never  confess- 
ing at  all. 

And  how  did  Sante  Fe  communicate  with  the  outside 
world  ? 

In  the  first  place,  Santa  Fe  was  for  the  most  part 
supremely  indifferent  whether  it  ever  heard  anything  of 
the  outside  world  at  all,  and  felt  self-sufficient  and  quite 
contented. 

Dynasties  might  totter  and  fall,  wars  might  rage,  and 
earthquakes  swallow  whole  cities.  So  long  as  they 
came  not  within  a  league  or  two  of  Santa  Fe,  the  people 
were  scarcely  interested. 

Their  news  arrived  in  driblets,  very  much  hacked 
about,  and  seldom  above  suspicion. 

Soldiers  back  from  the  wars  told  marvellous  tales  to 
open-eyed  listeners,  but  these  impressions  seldom  lasted, 
for  the  more  sceptical  would  remark,  "  De  luengas  vias, 
luengas  mentiras  —  Long  travels  bring  long  lies,"  and 
the  others  would  shake  their  heads  with  a  clack  of  the 
tongue,  and  confess  that  one  knew  not  what  to  believe. 

And  the  little  that  survived  was  generally  untrue,  for 
the  soldiers  mostly  rapped  off  their  biggest  lies  first, 
and  when  they  descended  to  idle  truths,  no  one  would 

5 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

credit  them.  And  these  imputations  of  falsity  were  even 
cast  upon  the  news  that  came  by  diligence,  the  facts 
most  worthy  of  credence  being,  as  before,  the  least  be- 
lieved. In  those  days,  with  the  sea  on  one  side  and  the 
mountains  on  the  other,  the  diligence  formed  the  only 
thread  of  communication  with  the  outer  world,  and  for- 
sooth !  it  was  a  slender  one. 

For,  what  would  you  have  ?  With  thirty  thousand 
souls  in  the  peninsula  depending  for  their  living  on 
smuggling  and  brigandage,  with  Carrasco  and  his  company 
levying  toll  upon  the  diligence  owners,  and  even  issuing 
"  passports  "  and  "safe  conducts  "  through  his  lines,  there 
were  nights  when  the  diligence  never  arrived  at  all. 

Santa  Fe,  ever  looking  up  towards  the  mountains,  had 
endowed  them  with  a  grisly  history.  They  were  the 
refuge  of  evil  spirits  banished  from  the  plain  by  the 
exorcisms  of  mother  church,  each  steeple  protecting  a 
zone  of  ten  square  miles  or  more  according  to  its  emi- 
nence, much  as  a  lightning  conductor  protects  a  radius 
of  thirty  or  forty  yards  according  to  its  height. 

And  indeed  there  was  good  evidence  that  rumblings 
and  fumes  and  subterranean  fires  existed,  for  they  broke 
out  every  ten  years  or  so,  and  shook  the  mountains  to 
their  bases. 

The  very  bishop  himself  was  awakened  one  morning 
at  a  most  unwonted  hour  by  muffled  thunder,  and  open- 
ing his  eyes,  beheld  every  drawer  in  the  room  come 
shaking  out  as  if  pushed  from  behind  by  a  trembling 
finger,  and  old  Juan  Padila,  the  keeper  of  the  bull-ring, 
scrambled  out  of  bed  and  began  to  pray  most  fervently 
and  cross  himself,  a  man,  look  you,  that  had  not  said 
his  prayers  for  thirty  years.  Therefore  you  will  con- 
cede that  the  theory  of  those  parts  concerning  evil  spirits 
and  the  shrewd  suspicions  as  to  where  the  Devil  kept 
his  kitchen  were  more  than  warranted. 

6 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

In  fact,  it  was  common  knowledge  that  the  breeze 
which  arose  at  eventide  was  caused  by  all  the  little 
devils  shivering  when  they  heard  Las  dnimas  sound 
from  the  cathedral  tower. 

Thus  may  it  be  said  that  Santa  Fe  stands  between 
the  Devil  and  the  Deep  Sea. 


Surrounded  by  these  influences  two  brothers  were 
born  in  the  early  years  of  the  nineteenth  century. 
Antonio,  the  elder,  was  swarthy,  impetuous  and  rebel- 
lious from  his  birth,  but  endowed  with  scanty  foresight. 
Manuel  was  brown-haired  and  of  a  lighter  skin,  his  eyes 
were  blue  and  pensive,  and  he  seldom  acted  without 
forecasting  the  results. 

Thus  it  was  that  Antonio  was  doomed  to  burn  his 
knuckles,  scald  his  legs,  and  scorch  his  eyebrows  ere 
learning  that  fire  was  not  so  to  be  trifled  with,  whilst 
Manuel,  after  one  brief  interview  with  a  chestnut,  con- 
cluded that  fire  was  hot. 

As  the  brothers  grew  up,  each  laughed  at  the  other 
after  his  own  fashion. 

Antonio  was  foolhardy  and  a  daredevil,  ingenious  in 
devising  practical  jokes  for  others,  but  constantly  falling 
into  a  trap  himself. 

But  Manuel  was  saintly,  studious,  and  fond  of  con- 
templation. 

He  would  hide  himself  in  the  gardens  for  hours 
together,  shaded  by  a  great  pepper  tree  that  grew  be- 
side a  fountain,  poring  over  The  History  of  the  Famous 
Preacher  Fray  Genmdio  de  Campazas,  alias  Zotes, 
History  of  the  Christian  Kings,  Lives  of  the  Saints, 
and  other  works  taken  from  his  father's  bookshelves. 
In  particular  he  loved  to  dwell  upon  the  life  of  San 
Antonio,  the  insidious  temptations  with  which  the  Evil 

7 


THE    PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

One  beset  him  in  the  wilderness,  out  of  all  which  trials 
the  saint  came  forth  victorious,  and  God  addressed  him 
thus :  — 

"  Antony,  I  will  always  protect  thee,  and  will  render 
thy  name  famous  throughout  the  earth." 

His  brother  Antonio  laughed  at  Manuel's  purity  and 
fervour.  Nevertheless  the  two  boys  were  not  bad  friends, 
and  stood  by  each  other  against  a  common  enemy,  as 
brothers  always  should  and  sometimes  do. 

Their  fellowship  was  ended  by  the  entrance  of  Manuel 
into  the  Company  of  Jesus  as  a  novice,  and  here  I  may 
remark  that  Don  Ricardo  Nieto,  his  father,  had  been  a 
close  friend  of  the  Jesuits,  and  had  guarded  their  interests 
through  troublous  times  whilst  the  Company  were  in 
banishment  from  Spain.  It  is  said  that  he  obtained  pos- 
session of  their  convent  on  the  hill  overlooking  Santa 
Fe,  and  maintained  it  in  order  at  his  own  expense  what 
time  the  Jesuits  were  in  foreign  parts.  The  exact  nature 
of  his  connexion  with  them  it  is  not  our  business  to 
analyze,  it  merely  explains  to  some  extent  the  novitiate 
of  Manuel  in  the  college  of  Loyola  in  Guipiizcoa. 

Antonio  saw  the  convent  doors  close  upon  Manuel 
with  a  feeling  of  regret,  tempered  by  no  little  amuse- 
ment. He  did  not,  however,  manifest  one  tittle  of  sur- 
prise ;  on  the  contrary,  he  reminded  his  mother  that 
"he  had  always  told  her  so." 

Manuel  chose  the  convent,  Antonio  chose  the  world. 
And  be  it  known  that  Antonio's  world  was  not  the  use- 
ful world,  the  artistic  world,  or  the  literary  world.  He 
became  a  sort  of  Columbus  in  search  of  a  world  of  mis- 
chief, nor  did  he  take  long  to  find  it. 

Very  soon  his  name  became  a  terror  to  Santa  Fe. 
During  carnival  week  he  simply  went  mad  with  delight. 
Sometimes  he  would  be  dressed  as  a  flower-girl,  with  an 
enormous  yellow  wig  and  crimson  mask,  making  every 

8 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

one  smell  his  artificial  roses  with  a  needle  in  the  centre. 
You  bent  your  face  good-humouredly  towards  the  blos- 
som, and  "  jzas !  "  you  found  yourself  holding  your  nose 
in  one  hand  and  beating  the  air  with  the  other.  Or 
perhaps  he  would  disguise  himself  and  one  of  his  friends 
as  municipal  police,  and  seeking  out  the  personage  of 
greatest  gravity  and  innocence,  preferably  a  judge  or 
councillor,  would  hurry  him  down  the  Alameda  towards 
the  lock-up,  followed  at  close  distance  by  a  furious 
female,  also  a  confederate,  screaming  indignantly,  "  To 
gaol  with  this  indecent  old  reprobate !  To  gaol  with 
him !  "  and  the  more  the  wretched  man  protested  the 
louder  became  her  screams.  On  one  occasion  he  suc- 
ceeded in  thus  conducting  the  Alcalde  himself  from  one 
end  of  the  Alameda  to  the  other  before  the  genuine 
police  became  aware  of  what  had  happened. 

When  Antonio  arrived  at  man's  estate  his  taste  for 
foolery  had  only  grown  the  stronger. 

It  is  related  of  him  that  during  one  of  those  attacks 
of  earthquake  which  occur  at  uncertain  periods  he  made 
use  of  this  opportunity  for  acting  a  farce  of  more  than 
usual  impudence.  The  people  had  in  many  cases  de- 
serted their  houses,  fearing  a  second  shock,  and  although 
no  worse  accidents  had  befallen  than  the  breakage  of 
windows  and  ornaments,  an  encampment  was  made  in 
the  central  square  and  the  Alameda,  and  whole  fami- 
lies equipped  themselves  with  tents.  This  happened 
in  August,  when  the  nights  were  cloudless,  hot,  and 
stifling. 

Antonio  had  his  bedstead  set  up  in  the  most  conspic- 
uous part  of  the  Alameda  in  great  state,  surmounted  by 
a  mosquito-net,  and  furnished  with  mattress  and  bed- 
clothes. 

On  the  ground  he  chalked  himself  out  a  bedroom, 
with  doors  and  windows  all  complete.  In  the  various 

9 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

chalk-lined  bays  around  this  room  he  arranged  his  chairs, 
dressing-table,  and  washstand.  Beside  the  bed  was  a 
small  table,  on  which  stood  a  bottle,  ostensibly  of  medi- 
cine but  really  containing  rum,  a  prayer-book,  and  a 
candlestick. 

At  midnight  enter  Antonio,  who  very  seriously  and 
deliberately  lights  his  candle,  walks  up  to  his  dressing- 
table,  whose  mirror  has  succumbed  to  the  earthquake, 
and  staring  right  through  the  empty  frame  into  the 
entrance  of  a  tent  where  the  Marquesa  de  Bobadilla  is 
unlacing  her  stays,  commences  to  comb  out  his  mous- 
tache and  otherwise  adorn  himself. 

A  shrill  "  j  Dios  mfo  !  "  from  the  marquesa,  a  hasty 
pulling  together  of  the  tent  door,  and  Antonio  continues 
to  adorn  himself,  apparently  lost  in  thought. 

He  then  goes  to  his  imaginary  window,  which  he 
boldly  throws  open,  rests  his  arms  upon  an  imaginary 
balcony,  and  with  a  sickly  smile  looks  unutterable 
things  across  an  imaginary  street,  and  it  does  not  con- 
cern him  that  these  glances  light  upon  the  astonished 
face  of  the  fat  apothecary,  who  is  standing  at  his  tent- 
door  with  his  mouth  wide  open. 

After  some  twenty  minutes  of  such  buffoonery 
Antonio  proceeds  very  leisurely  to  undress,  hanging 
each  garment  from  an  imaginary  wall-peg  without  tak- 
ing notice  that  his  clothes  fall  on  the  ground,  and  hav- 
ing donned  his  nightcap  in  the  usual  way,  coughs  with 
such  violence  that  a  head  is  poked  out  of  every  tent, 
takes  a  great  dose  of  medicine,  shakes  his  head,  turns 
up  the  whites  of  his  eyes,  gets  into  bed,  and  extinguishes 
the  candle. 

These  proceedings  attracted  an  enthusiastic  audience 
when  they  became  known,  so  that  one  youth  would  say 
to  another,  "  Come  with  me  to  the  Alameda,  and  we 
shall  just  be  in  time  to  see  Don  Antonio  go  to  bed." 

10 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Without  being  too  conscientious  as  to  details,  it  may 
be  said  at  once  that  the  amusements  of  Don  Antonio 
were  none  too  savoury.  At  the  age  of  twenty-five  or 
thereabouts  he  was  a  tall  and  sallow  man,  rather  hollow 
about  the  cheeks,  but  with  fine  black  eyes,  which  had  a 
mischievous  twinkle  in  them,  and  seemed  to  be  scanning 
one's  weak  points  for  future  guidance.  Amongst  the 
ladies  he  was  somewhat  of  a  Don  Juan  Tenorio.  Men 
and  women  alike  were  watchfully  afraid  of  him. 

In  the  fulness  of  time  Don  Ricardo  Nieto  and  his 
wife  were  gathered  to  their  forefathers.  Don  Ricardo 
himself  fell  suddenly  dead  of  heart  disease,  which 
caused  no  little  speculation  in  his  two  sons  as  to  whether 
such  weakness  were  hereditary. 

Don  Ricardo  bequeathed  unto  his  firstborn  the  very 
respectable  fortune  of  six  thousand  golden  ounces, 
equivalent  to  a  sum  of  twenty  thousand  pounds. 

To  Manuel  he  very  naturally  left  nothing,  for  the 
boy  had  chosen  to  open  his  accounts  in  that  bank  where 
moths  do  not  corrupt  nor  thieves  break  through  and 
steal.  But  Don  Ricardo  took  what  steps  were  in  his 
power  to  secure  a  goodly 'balance,  and  knowing  full  well 
what  a  vast  amount  of  dross  must  be  paid  over  the 
counter  here  below  in  order  to  draw  a  single  penny  on 
the  other  bank  of  Styx  (so  exorbitant  is  the  exchange) 
he  bequeathed  the  remainder  of  his  fortune  in  such  a 
manner  that  the  General  of  the  Order  of  Jesuits  found 
himself  one  morning  in  a  most  beatified  condition,  with 
his  countenance  all  smiles  and  dimples,  and  his  hands 
persistently  washing  themselves  without  any  soap 
whatever,  and  indeed  he  had  good  cause. 

And  now  let  us  ask  why  Manuel  thus  chose  to  give 
up  the  world.  There  are  several  forces  which  might 
have  brought  him  to  such  an  end. 

Caprice  could  not  be  one  of  them,  for  Manuel  was 

II 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

generally  careful  as  to  all  his  bases  before  forming  con- 
clusions of  such  moment,  and  on  all  but  one  occasion, 
which  presently  must  come  before  us,  he  looked  before 
he  leaped. 

Weariness  of  the  world  could  not  be  possible  in  one 
so  young,  so  hopeful,  so  full  of  zeal. 

Fear  of  the  world  is  an  explanation  that  at  once  must 
be  rejected  when  it  is  understood  that  Manuel,  like 
Antonio,  scarcely  knew  what  it  was  to  fear. 

Fanaticism  was  no  fit  term  for  Manuel's  quiescent 
mien  and  pensive  gaze. 

Persuasion  is  scarcely  applicable  to  one  so  strong  of 
will  and  firm  of  purpose,  although  it  must  be  confessed, 
that  Don  Ricardo  had  used  every  argument  in  favour  of 
a  monastic  life,  and  had  often  sighed  to  think  that  in 
his  own  young  days  great  barriers  had  put  themselves 
between  his  destiny  and  his  ambition.  No  doubt  this 
influence  was  not  without  effect,  but  Manuel  was  bent 
on  being  a  monk  in  any  case.  His  father  merely  served 
to  name  the  convent. 

The  force  that  drew  him  on  was  a  longing  for  the 
truth.  Once  that  truth  were  found,  Manuel  was  pre- 
pared to  shed  his  heart's  blood  for  whatever  purpose 
might  be  assigned  in  truth's  behalf.  He  was  ready  to 
tribute  all  that  wealth  of  reverence  with  which  he  had 
been  born.  He  had  a  sincere  yearning  to  do  worship, 
he  would  rather  that  this  worship  should  be  for  some- 
thing beautiful,  but  in  any  case  it  must  be  for  something 
true.  The  artist  and  the  poet  were  struggling  with  the 
logician,  for  Manuel  was  an  odd  mixture  of  the  emo- 
tional and  the  logical.  Had  he  started  upon  his  quest 
at  a  later  date  in  life,  when  the  emotional  is  dying  out, 
who  shall  say  what  ending  this  story  might  have  had  ? 

Instead  of  this  his  artist's  nature  was  brought  into 
contact  at  an  early  age,  when  impressions  are  made 

12 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

most  easily,  with  all  the  picturesque  entourage  of  the 
Romish  Church. 

Not  that  he  yielded  at  once.  Even  if  foredestined  to 
play  his  part  among  these  pomps  and  ceremonies,  he 
took  steps  to  assure  himself  that  he  was  in  the  right. 
In  the  first  place,  Manuel  as  an  honest  reasoner  started 
at  the  very  root  of  his  tree  of  knowledge,  neither  did 
any  false  ideas  as  to  the  wickedness  of  patient  investi- 
gation daunt  him  one  jot  or  tittle. 

"  Either  there  is  a  God,  or  there  is  not  a  God,"  he 
said  to  himself.  "  If  there  be  no  God,  then  creation  is  a 
hopeless  morass,  and  I  may  as  well  spend  my  time  as 
Antonio.  If  there  be  no  God,  then  life  has  lost  its 
meaning  and  its  earnestness,  our  lives  are  but  a  moment, 
and  our  pains  and  joys  are  unimportant  oscillations  in 
pitiless  space. 

"  But  if  there  be  a  God,  then  all  men  must  be  blind 
to  pay  Him  so  little  heed.  How  is  it  possible  that  the 
beings  with  whom  I  am  every  day  in  contact  can  realize 
that  there  is  a  God,  a  power  that  rules  their  happiness 
for  all  eternity,  and  yet  they  never  use  His  name,  except 
to  swear  by  ?  " 

"If  there  be  no  God,"  thought  Manuel,  "mankind  is 
wasting  time  in  cultivating  barren  ground.  But  if  there 
be  a  God,  it  is  stupendous  that  His  worship  is  not  the 
most  conspicuous  feature  in  our  daily  life.  It  is  amaz- 
ing how  little  man  can  realize  His  majesty,  or  that  he 
can  suffer  his  mind  to  prostitute  itself  to  the  worldly 
when  He  who  made  that  world  is  looking  on." 

Which  was  the  right  hypothesis  ? 

To  solve  this  problem  Manuel  girt  up  his  loins  and 
went  forth  into  the  wilderness  of  polemics  with  no  better 
weapons  than  a  pair  of  ears  and  eyes  and  a  head  that 
as  -yet  had  never  learned  to  ache.  His  father,  his  con- 
fessor, his  lives  of  the  saints,  were  practically  all  the 

13 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

assistance  that  was  available.  From  the  vast  ocean  of 
dogmatism,  of  doubtful  postulates,  of  unsound  premises, 
of  analogies  lifted  to  the  dignity  of  laws,  of  verbosity, 
repetition,  and  even  clumsy  deceit,  Manuel  thought,  but 
was  uncertain,  that  once  or  twice  he  had  seen  a  living 
body  leap  like  a  porpoise,  then  disappear  from  view. 

After  a  while  he  became  distrustful  of  theories 
which  required  such  elaborate  enunciations,  of  truths 
that  were  only  to  be  formulated  in  half  a  dozen  para- 
graphs, of  proofs  whose  very  basis  was  a  specious 
begging  of  the  question. 

His  advisers  pointed  out  to  him  that  he  was  delving 
in  regions  where  perspicuity  was  no  longer  to  be  hoped 
for,  that  to  man's  stunted  mind  and  knowledge  was  the 
involution  due.  "A  language  and  an  intellect,"  said 
they,  "  which  have  learned  only  to  deal  with  things  of 
earth,  must  be  expected  to  trip  themselves  up  when 
they  wrestle  with  the  spiritual." 

This  did  not  satisfy  him. 

"  If  with  this  head,"  said  Manuel,  "  I  have  got  to 
worship,  with  this  head  I  must  be  made  to  under- 
stand. If  it  be  not  intended  that  I  should  understand, 
I  am  sure  it  is  not  intended  that  I  should  believe,  there- 
fore neither  will  I  worship.  If  this  head  of  mine  is  too 
base  a  thing  to  wrestle  with  such  matters,  surely  a  just 
God  will  have  left  it  outside  the  pale  of  His  law,  and 
will  only  condemn  such  beings  as,  having  read,  marked, 
learned,  and  inwardly  digested,  have  acted  not  only 
against  His  decrees,  but  against  their  own  conscience. 

"  It  yet  remains  for  me  to  see  whether  I  can  lift  my- 
self to  such  a  level." 

At  this  point  Manuel  retired  from  all  discussion  with 
the  dogmatists,  convinced  that  they  had  nothing  more 
to  offer  him.  It  is  possible,  in  fact  it  is  almost  deduci- 
ble,  from  his  line  of  argument  up  to  this  point,  that  a 

14 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

continuance  of  these  debates  would  have  so  disgusted 
him  with  unproductive  suppositions  as  to  lead  him 
towards  the  opposite  shore  of  atheism.  A  rational 
belief  in  a  rational  divinity  was  in  those  days  impossible. 
In  the  most  Christian  country  in  the  world  a  man  was 
either  a  Christian  or  an  atheist.  And  Manuel,  at  that 
time,  could  only  betake  himself  to  one  of  these  extremes. 

Moreover,  an  unlovely  God  could  have  no  part  in  the 
life  of  one  like  Manuel.  Chaos  itself  were  more  attrac- 
tive, for  at  least  it  held  a  vast  and  sombre  grandeur  of 
its  own.  Either  the  God  of  his  fathers,  or  no  God  at  all. 

And  so  he  gave  up  argument  with  his  fellow-beings, 
and  tried  to  reason  these  things  out  for  himself.  Manuel 
knew  but  little  of  such  theories  as  Darwin  and  Spencer 
have  now  armed  us  with.  Broadly,  he  could  see  that 
some  kind  of  evolution  was  taking  place  in  nature,  for 
already  such  ideas  had  been  put  forward. 

And  possibly  he  started  upon  his  struggle  with 
Vacuity  to  make  her  disgorge  the  truth,  just  as  well 
prepared  as  we  are,  who  have  all  these  treatises  at  our 
disposal.  If  such  things  are  not  to  be  thought  out  with 
thoughts  .at  all,  our  present  advancement  is  very  much 
like  climbing  up  St.  Paul's  in  order  to  see  the  pole  star 
at  close  quarters. 

The  conclusions  of  Manuel  were  quite  useless  for  the 
guidance  of  posterity,  being  merely  the  outcome  of 
emotion.  But  Manuel  fondly  believed  that  they  were 
otherwise.  The  wish  was  father  to  the  thought,  and 
chance  was  the  mother  thereof.  In  reality,  and  to  a 
prosaical  mind,  the  manner  of  his  final  decision  was  a 
descent  from  the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous. 

For  several  months  after  his  arguments  with  the 
priests  Manuel  swayed  between  yea  and  nay,  but  nay 
was  daily  growing  weaker,  it  only  cropped  up  at  inter- 
vals when  the  mind  was  oppressed. 

15 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

His  greatest  argument  in  the  affirmative  was  one 
that,  unknown  to  him,  had  lain  at  the  very  root  and 
origin  of  most  religions.  He  could  not  see  the  begin- 
ning of  life,  he  could  not  understand  the  forces  that 
manifested  themselves  in  nature.  Not  being  able  to 
understand  them  it  never  occurred  to  him  that  want  of 
knowledge  might  be  his  sole  and  only  stumbling-block. 

Manuel,  already  hungering  for  something  to  worship, 
at  length  supplied  the  deficiency,  a  God. 

"  What  tho1  in  common  silence,  all 
Move  round  this  dark  terrestrial  ball : 
What  tho1  no  real  voice  or  sound, 
Amidst  their  radiant  orbs  be  found, 
In  reason's  ear  they  all  rejoice, 
And  utter  forth  a  glorious  voice, 
For  ever  singing  as  they  shine, 
'  The  hand  that  made  us  is  Divine.1 " 

Still  he  doubted. 

One  calm  evening  he  resolved  to  put  an  end  to  all  his 
doubts.  For  some  time  past  he  had  been  arguing  that 
a  Creator  who  was  jealous  and  wished  for  his  recogni- 
tion would  surely  condescend  to  give  him  some  sign  if 
asked.  This  sign  he  begged  of  heaven,  and  all  that 
evening  sat  looking  over  the  valley  of  Santa  Fe  from 
the  hilltop  towards  the  setting  sun,  yet  never  a  sign  was 
given. 

Very  much  dejected  he  wandered  moodily  home.  His 
mind  was  at  such  a  tension  that  he  lay  tossing  in  bed 
without  sleep.  When  at  last  he  slumbered  the  dawn  had 
nearly  come,  and  with  its  earliest  moments  his  dreams 
awakened  him  again. 

He  sat  up  in  bed,  and  his  mind  returned  immediately 
to  its  trouble  of  the  night  before. 

"  Nay,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  I  cannot  believe." 

And  as  chance  would  have  it  a  cock  crew. 

16 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

He  rose  from  his  bed  and  drew  towards  the  balcony, 
where  the  faintest  tint  of  rosy  dawn  was  just  commenc- 
ing to  show  above  the  housetops. 

"  I  cannot  believe  it,"  he  repeated. 

Then,  after  a  pause,  during  which  he  had  opened  his 
window  to  let  in  the  morning  air,  he  said  to  himself  aloud 
in  a  voice  of  profoundest  sorrow :  — 

"  I  deny  it." 

And  just  at  that  moment  right  underneath  his  balcony 
the  cock  crew  for  the  second  time  loud  and  lustily. 

Manuel  stood  for  a  moment  with  his  hand  raised  to  his 
head,  for  certain  remembrances  had  forced  themselves 
upon  him  in  a  moment  when  his  own  condition  of  ner- 
vous exaltation,  the  solitude  of  the  hour,  and  the  mystery 
of  dawn,  were  all  combining  to  give  the  coincidence  full 
meaning.  First,  he  turned  deathly  pale,  then,  with  a 
sob  of  overwhelming  emotion,  he  sank  upon  his  knees 
and  lowered  his  head  in  prayer. 

One  month  later  he  became  a  novice  in  the  college  of 
Loyola  de  Guipuzcoa. 


CHAPTER   II 

"  Passion-pale  they  met 

And  greeted  :  hands  in  hands,  and  eye  to  eye, 
Low  on  the  border  of  her  couch  they  sat 
Stammering  and  staring." 

Guinevere. 

1  ^OR  a  while  we  must  leave  Santa  Fe  in  which  the 
-L  story  was  begun,  and  to  which  it  must  return,  fol- 
lowing the  young  Jesuit  to  Guipuzcoa. 

The  solitary  confinement  of  the  first  few  weeks,  the 
confession  of  his  past  life  —  innocent  enough  in  all  con- 
science—  were  events  which  sealed  and  doubly  sealed 
Manuel's  resolution. 

The  confession  involved  a  reference  to  bygone  doubts. 
In  the  hands  of  a  cultured  Jesuit  the  boy's  thoughts 
were  turned  in  the  way  that  they  should  go.  Instead 
of  teaching  the  young  idea  how  to  shoot  by  means  of  a 
heavy  broadside  of  dogma  and  hard  words,  the  Father 
Confessor,  with  a  quiet  smile,  bade  him  look  around 
him  at  the  miracles  of  heaven  in  every  leaf  and  flower, 
and  as  that  was  precisely  what  Manuel  had  so  recently 
been  doing,  he  exclaimed  that  no  further  proof  was  nec- 
essary. And  the  Jesuit,  who  had  been  ready  to  lead  up 
to  a  subtly  woven  proof,  paused  to  admire  his  artless 
confirmation,  and  knew  that  his  doubts  were  past. 

Once  having  decided,  Manuel  never  for  one  moment 
thought  of  turning  back,  and  entered  into  his  new  life 
with  the  greatest  zeal,  winning  golden  opinions  and 
pleasing  all. 

18 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

When  first  he  became  a  novice  he  was  only  sixteen 
years  of  age,  and  although  sixteen  years  in  Spain  count 
for  somewhat  more  than  the  same  period  of  time  in 
England,  no  other  love  than  the  purely  devotional  or 
purely  filial  had  so  far  claimed  admission  to  his  heart. 
There  comes  a  time  in  the  life  of  every  sane  and  healthy 
being  when  love  of  a  different  kind  astonishes  the 
senses,  sometimes  dawning  gradually,  at  others  closing 
boisterously  upon  us  like  a  mighty  rushing  whirlwind. 

Manuel  at  sixteen  felt  that  he  could  guarantee  his 
future  conduct  from  seventeen  to  seventy.  Mark  what 
happened  to  him  at  twenty-five.  A  pair  of  woman's 
eyes  looked  at  him,  and  thereby  hangs  a  tale.  Not  a 
very  new  one  either,  for  it  has  been  the  lot  of  more 
young  priests  than  ever  heard  mass  in  the  Chapel  of 
Loyola  de  Guipiizcoa. 

In  the  year  1834  cholera  was  spreading  among  the 
more  densely  peopled  cities  of  the  Peninsula.  For  this 
calamity  it  was  necessary  to  find  a  whipping-boy. 

Several  good  souls  having  whispered  that  the  Jesuits 
were  poisoning  the  wells,  and  that  this  was  what  caused 
the  plague,  the  mob  attacked  the  convents  and  massa- 
cred the  good  fathers,  who,  with  all  their  diplomacy  and 
ambition,  had  never  harmed  the  poor,  and  had  minis- 
tered to  the  hungry  and  afflicted. 

In  the  two  years  that  followed  Queen  Cristina  was 
compelled,  against  her  will,  to  suppress  the  order,  and 
to  declare  the  Company  of  Jesus  banished  from  her 
dominions. 

Spain  in  those  days,  without  trains  or  telegraph,  was 
even  more  unwieldy  than  it  is  to-day.  In  the  Northern 
provinces  a  Carlist  war  was  raging. 

For  many  reasons,  which  I  will  not  here  enter  upon 
too  fully  (Spanish  politics  being  somewhat  less  fathom- 
able than  the  Atlantic),  the  palatial  college  of  Loyola, 

19 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

the  "  marvel  of  Guipuzcoa,"  in  a  delicious  valley  watered 
by  the  Urola,  was  allowed  to  continue  its  course  uninter- 
fered  with  until  1840,  thus  holding  the  unique  position 
of  a  Jesuit  college  in  a  country  whence  all  Jesuits  had 
been  banished  four  or  five  years  ago.  The  end,  how- 
ever, came  at  last. 

It  is  easy  to  comprehend  that,  with  the  foreshadow- 
ing of  their  departure  and  the  preparations  for  the  jour- 
ney, the  routine  of  the  college  became  relaxed.  The 
attention  of  the  Jesuit  Fathers  was  utterly  absorbed  in 
the  conflicting  news  that  every  morning  brought  them. 
Long  and  bravely  did  they  fight  against  the  untoward 
event.  Since  they  had  so  far  evaded  banishment,  might 
they  not  form  a  nucleus  for  the  re-gathering  of  the  Jesuits 
in  Spain  ? 

All  the  vast  influence  of  the  company  abroad  was 
occupied  for  many  months  in  trying  to  hold  the  fort, 
and  many  a  secret  messenger  sped  through  France  and 
across  the  Pyrenees  to  Her  Most  Catholic  Majesty  the 
Queen  of  Spain. 

But  monastic  institutions  were  in  high  disfavour  with 
the  people.  It  was  even  proposed  to  reduce  the  salary 
of  the  primate  from  ,£90,000  per  annum  to  the  miserable 
pittance  of  ;£  1,500,  and  so  in  proportion  all  along  the 
line. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Don  Garcia  Blanco  in  Cortes  with 
much  gusto,  "  the  reformation  of  the  clergy  is  one  of  the 
greatest  works  on  which  the  Cortes  can  be  engaged.  It 
is  one  of  the  grand  reforms  the  nation  expects  from  us. 
The  object  is  to  fix  in  a  definite  manner  the  condition  of 
two  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  persons,  and  to  arrange 
concerning  a  revenue  of  ;£  16,000,000." 

"  Valiant '  Reformation" ! "  groaned  the  clergy.  "  Hope- 
less rapscallions,  to  place  so  low  a  value  on  their  miser- 
able souls." 

20 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

With  these  events  foreshadowed  and  the  remainder  of 
the  convents  closed,  the  inmates  of  the  bejewelled  col- 
lege of  Loyola  looked  gloomily  across  the  valley  at  the 
mountains  and  forests  of  the  majestic  landscape  all  around 
it  and  scented  the  coming  disaster  on  the  breeze. 

For  some  months  previously  a  lay  brother  had  kept 
the  monastery  in  communication  with  the  outer  world  by 
meeting  the  diligence  on  mule-back.  In  order  that  this 
person  might  not  attract  attention,  or  be  molested  by  the 
more  ill-disposed  among  the  peasantry,  it  had  been  the 
custom  for  a  trusted  messenger  of  the  college  to  saunter 
a  mile  or  two  along  the  path  that  leads  past  the  woods, 
and  to  relieve  the  lay  brother  of  his  correspondence,  thus 
allowing  him  to  continue  on  his  road  into  the  village, 
where  he  lived  for  the  time  being. 

For  some  few  weeks  this  duty  fell  to  Manuel,  who, 
having  passed  through  his  first  two  years  of  novitiate, 
was  now  in  the  class  of  scholastics. 

With  all  his  fervour  —  and  time  had  increased  the  in- 
tensity thereof  —  it  was  an  innocent  and  much-appreci- 
ated relief  to  the  young  priest  to  be  able  to  leave  the 
college  with  ample  time  to  spare,  to  stray  from  the 
roadside  and  wander  through  the  woods  without  ques- 
tion from  his  elders  and  superiors. 

His  hour  of  return  was  uncertain.  If  the  weather 
were  favourable  he  generally  reached  the  foot  of  the 
hill  before  sunset,  and  was  safe  inside  the  college  by 
seven  o'clock. 

Ordinary  letters,  addressed  in  black  ink,  were  to  be 
carried  in  his  pockets ;  letters  addressed  in  violet  ink 
were  to  be  treated  with  special  care ;  whilst  if  a  small 
letter  arrived  written  in  violet  ink,  and  also  marked  with 
a  Golden  Fleur  de  Lys,  it  was  to  be  either  burned,  swal- 
lowed, or  thoroughly  destroyed,  should  any  one  waylay 
him.  Doubtless  the  traveller  by  diligence  and  the  lay 

21 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

brother  on  mule-back  had  the  same  instructions.  Man- 
uel's orders  were  that  he  was  not  to  betray  any  haste, 
but  rather  to  saunter,  as  if  in  search  of  specimens. 
Alas !  he  found  a  "  specimen  "  that  the  Father  Rector 
had  not  foreseen. 

He  did  not  always  leave  or  enter  the  college  in  the 
same  direction,  sometimes  returning  by  one  path,  some- 
times by  another,  and  often  burdened  with  an  armful 
of  fern  roots  and  wild  flowers,  for  his  love  of  Nature 
assisted  him  to  make  his  acting  realistic. 

Manuel  was  a  handsome  young  priest,  very  little 
shorter  than  Antonio,  and  with  curly  chestnut  hair  and 
deep  blue  eyes,  the  features  being  cut  somewhat  more 
delicately  than  Antonio's.  There  was  a  something 
magnetic  and  sympathetic  about  his  presence  which  one 
noticed  without  being  able  to  explain.  His  mouth  was 
so  perfect  that  one  might  almost  have  called  it  feminine. 

He  was  a  goodly  picture  for  a  lass  to  look  upon,  and 
during  his  ministrations  to  the  poor  more  than  one  dam- 
sel on  bended  knees  had  sighed  as  she  looked  into  those 
pensive  eyes  and  thought  to  herself  "what  a  shame  to 
make  him  a  priest;  how  handsome  he  would  have 
looked  as  a  bull-fighter  in  spangled  jacket,  white  silk 
stockings,  and  colilla,"  or,  kissing  his  hand  in  reverence, 
had  wished  that  she  might  kiss  his  lips  in  love. 

One  fine  summer's  evening,  sauntering  down  the  road 
where  it  passes  through  the  wood  and  a  dark  avenue  of 
trees  rises  from  the  slight  embankment  on  either  side, 
Manuel  caught  sight  of  a  woman's  figure  up  above  him 
to  the  left,  stooping  among  the  bushes  and  ferns. 

His  footfall  startled  her,  and  drawing  herself  up  she 
turned  towards  the  intruder  and  brushed  her  hair  back 
from  off  her  forehead  and  shook  her  head  as  if  to  clear 
her  eyes  of  one  or  two  stray  locks  that  persistently  fell 
back. 

22 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

The  girl  was  blond,  and  her  hair  was  almost  golden ; 
the  features  were  not  exactly  beautiful,  but  at  least  they 
were  bonny,  and,  for  a  peasant,  somewhat  refined. 
The  mouth  had  a  saucy  smile,  and  the  eyes  had  a  mis- 
chievous penetration  that  looked  a  man  through  and 
through.  It  was  no  face  for  a  handsome  young  priest 
to  look  upon,  for  there  was  a  something  in  that  roguish 
look  that  taunted  a  man  for  being  a  priest,  and  chal- 
lenged his  sense  of  gallantry. 

His  eyes  met  hers. 

Manuel  felt  such  a  shock  as  he  had  never  known 
before;  in  fact,  so  strange  and  so  irresistible  was  this 
earthquake  that  was  quivering  in  his  heart  and  in  his 
brain  that  he  gazed  into  those  saucy  eyes  for  several 
seconds  before  realizing  what  was  happening,  then 
blushed  as  crimson  as  the  sunset,  turned  pale,  and 
wended  his  way  homeward.  Was  this  a  flood  of  sin  that 
the  Evil  One,  in  an  idle  moment  of  unpreparedness, 
had  swept  over  him  ?  Oh-,  how  insidious,  how  fierce, 
how  wicked  yet  how  lovely  this  onslaught  seemed ! 

And  Teresa  gave  her  head  another  shake,  wiped  the 
light  perspiration  of  her  labour  from  her  forehead, 
looked  after  the  young  priest  with  a  smile  until  he  dis- 
appeared behind  the  poplars,  and  fell  to  gathering  more 
sticks. 

But  more  than  once  she  broke  into  a  charming  little 
laugh,  and  muttered  to  herself  — 

"  What  a  pretty  priest !  " 

And  then  — 

"  What  a  pity !  " 

And  the  sun  having  set,  she  wandered  back  to  the 
charcoal-burner's  lonely  hut  on  the  hillside,  and  flinging 
down  her  bundle  of  faggots,  turned  her  shoulders  upon 
the  scolding  old  woman  who  was  fanning  the  embers 
of  the  little  hearth,  and  ensconced  herself  in  the  one 

23 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

and  only  bedroom.  Seated  on  a  rush  chair  beside  a 
miserable  lamp  of  ancient  fashion,  she  fell  to  looking 
at  her  face  in  a  piece  of  broken  mirror,  and  who  can 
say  what  fancies  she  saw  therein  ? 

Meanwhile  Manuel  had  gone  down  the  hill  towards 
the  convent  gates  wearing  very  much  the  appearance 
of  one  who  has  received  a  blow  in  the  dark  and  won- 
ders whence  it  came.  Moreover,  there  was  a  lurking 
suspicion  of  guilt  in  the  young  man's  eyes.  He  felt 
that  his  thoughts  had  wandered  for  a  moment  out  of 
the  narrow  path  of  priestly  rectitude.  The  suddenness 
and  completeness  of  his  aberration  filled  him  with  a 
sense  of  shame. 

And  now  must  be  put  on  record  a  fact  whose  impor- 
tance will  transpire  as  time  goes  on. 

Manuel  did  not  confess  his  fault 

To  some  it  may  appear  ridiculous  that  an  involuntary 
thought  should  need  confession,  but  those  who  know 
how  searching  is  the  inquiry  of  the  Jesuit  confessional 
will  know  that  everything  which  troubles  the  conscience 
must  be  confessed,  whether  it  be  wrong  or  not. 

Despite  the  stern  discipline  whereby  a  junior's  ideas 
and  will  are  brought  under  control  of  his  seniors, 
Manuel  had  still  retained  some  portion  of  his  former 
strength  of  purpose  and  honesty  of  thought.  He  did 
not  deem  the  incident  worthy  of  confession.  He  tried 
to  insist  that  it  had  already  been  forgotten.  But  such 
was  not  the  case.  Pretty  Teresa's  face  was  in  the  young 
priest's  dreams  and  haunted  him. 

Why  was  it  that  a  day  or  two  later  he  passed  by 
the  very  same  road  ?  Might  he  not  have  known  that  the 
incident  was  liable  to  repeat  itself  ?  Did  he  fear  the 
repetition,  or  long  for  it  ?  Manuel  himself  had  some- 
times thought  that  all  human  beings  were  made  up  of 
a  vast  horde  of  contending  particles.  Each  particle 

24 


represented  an  ancestor,  and  some  of  these  ancestors 
incited  a  man  to  do  good,  others  to  do  evil. 

If  it  were  so,  the  devil  contrived  that  the  same  roguish 
scapegraces  who  had  always  prevailed  in  Antonio's  par- 
liament should  reign  for  a  brief  season  in  Manuel. 

Teresa — marvellous  coincidence  —  was  in  the  same 
place,  at  the  same  hour,  and  their  eyes  met  in  the 
same  manner,  and  Manuel's  cheeks  flushed  with  the 
self-same  guilty  red. 

After  Manuel  had  gone  past  his  ear  was  stung  by 
the  sound  of  a  roguish  laugh. 

He  turned  hot  and  cold,  then,  with  a  sudden  impulse, 
went  back  and  stood  before  the  girl 

"  Daughter,  why  do  you  mock  me  ?  " 

She  cast  down  her  eyes  and  trifled  with  her  armful 
of  sticks,  being  at  first  abashed,  then,  gradually  raising 
her  gaze  from  the  priest's  feet  until  it  rested  upon  his 
face,  during  which  movement  a  line  of  fire  seemed  to 
be  rising  all  around  him,  and  his  heart  told  him  that 
he  had  impetuously  accepted  a  battle  for  which  he 
was  not  equipped,  she  smiled  very  winsomely  and 
answered  — 

"  I  was  laughing  at  my  thoughts." 

"  Nay !     It  was  at  me  you  laughed." 

They  exchanged  a  prolonged  and  steady  glance. 
The  priest's  eyes  were  the  first  to  falter. 

The  girl  perceived  her  victory,  and  with  a  quiet 
laugh  straightened  herself  and  placed  one  hand  upon 
her  hip. 

"What  if  I  did?" 

The  young  priest  hesitated  a  moment  as  if  about  to 
speak,  then  turned  on  his  heel  and  hurried  away 
towards  the  convent. 

Alas!  what  a  scene  of  turmoil  was  Manuel's  poor 
head  that  night.  And  pray  what  right  had  petticoats 

25 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

to  thrust  themselves  into  the  breviary  ?  Woman's 
eyes  looked  at  him  from  every  corner  of  his  cell,  and 
even  when  he  frowned  and  bent  his  eyes  upon  his 
books,  the  hyphens  were  Cupid's  bows,  and  all  the 
S's  laughed  at  him.  J  had  a  flippant  way  of  cocking 
up  his  tail,  and  all  the  little  a's  looked  bashfully  away 
from  him.  He  read  the  same  passages  over  and  over 
again  without  comprehending  one  word  of  what  was 
written,  then  rose  and  paced  feverishly  up  and 
down  his  cell. 

How  foolish  he  had  been  deliberately  to  seek  temp- 
tation !  What  a  terrible  revelation,  what  a  rude 
awakening !  For  Manuel  no  longer  denied  that  his 
eyes  had  looked  love  into  the  woman's  eyes. 

At  the  end  of  an  hour's  fierce  battling  of  the  va- 
rious elements  within  him,  he  knelt  in  prayer,  and 
resolving  henceforth  to  shun  the  scene  of  his  defeat, 
cried,  "  Lead  us  not  into  temptation,  but  deliver  us 
from  all  evil." 

Still,  he  did  not  confess. 

On  the  morrow,  which  was  a  great  feast  day,  the 
Father  Rector  preached  to  his  flock  after  mass  was 
over. 

"The  company,"  said  he,  "were  passing  through  a 
temporary  period  of  affliction.  In  all  probability  his 
listeners  were  destined,  within  a  few  brief  months, 
to  suffer  banishment,  and  to  be  scattered  among  the 
nations  of  the  earth. 

"  Let  it  not  be  thought  that  God  had  forgotten 
them.  Christ,  their  General  on  high,  was  ever  watchtul 
of  His  chosen  band,  and  had  devised  this  change  in 
furtherance  of  His  will. 

"  But  now,  what  ought  to  be  the  spirit  in  which  the 
Jesuit  should  go  forth  among  the  nations  ?  Was 
Christ's  favorite  warrior,  His  ideal  of  martial  Chris- 

26 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

tianity,  to  hie  him  by  back  lanes  and  unfrequented 
paths  in  order  to  avoid  the  glance  of  Satan  ? 

"  No !  The  Jesuit's  conscience  was  pure  enough 
for  him  to  face  the  world  with  flashing  eyes,  and, 
firm  as  a  rock,  to  die  beside  his  standard,  sword  in  hand. 

"  Many  were  the  vicissitudes  they  might  have  to 
undergo,  and  great  were  the  temptations.  These 
they  must  learn  to  vanquish  rather  than  to  shun.  For 
a  constant  running  away  from  every  new  temptation 
in  the  circumstances  they  were  now  about  to  face 
might  render  them  useless  to  Christ." 

And  then,  after  much  discoursing  in  this  manner, 
the  good  father  told  them  how  closely  St.  Paul  had 
anticipated  the  Jesuit's  attitude  when  going  forth  to 
fight  the  good  fight. 

" '  Put  on  the  whole  armour  of  God,  that  ye  may  be 
able  to  stand  against  the  wiles  of  the  devil.  For  we 
wrestle  not  against  flesh  and  blood,  but  against  prin- 
cipalities, against  powers,  against  the  rulers  of  the 
darkness  of  this  world,  against  spiritual  wickedness 
in  high  places.  Wherefore  take  unto  you  the  whole 
armour  of  God,  that  ye  may  be  able  to  withstand  in 
the  evil  day,  and  having  done  all,  to  stand. 

"  '  Stand  therefore,  having  your  loins  girt  about  with 
truth,  and  having  on  the  breastplate  of  righteousness ; 
and  your  feet  shod  with  the  preparation  of  the  gospel 
of  peace ;  above  all,  taking  the  shield  of  faith,  wherewith 
ye  shall  be  able  to  quench  all  the  fiery  darts  of  the 
wicked.' >: 

When  Manuel  returned  to  his  cell  he  fell  into  deep 
meditation.  From  his  narrow  embrasure  he  could  sur- 
vey the  dark  green  forest  that  ran  up  the  mountain 
side  in  front  of  him.  From  one  point  in  the  distant 
sea  of  foliage  rose  a  lazy  column  of  smoke.  The  au- 
tumnal tints  were  just  commencing  to  show  themselves. 

27 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

He  had  prayed  God  not  to  lead  him  into  temptation. 
This  then  was  God's  reply,  given  through  the  mouth  of 
the  priest  His  servant. 

"  These  they  must  learn  to  vanquish  rather  than  to 
shun." 

"  So  be  it,"  thought  he.     "  But  God  help  me !  " 

One  or  two  days  later  Manuel  went  out  to  meet  the 
messenger  along  the  road,  and  took  from  him  several 
letters.  One  of  them  was  in  a  small  square  envelope 
sealed  with  wax.  The  seal  was  a  peculiar  one.  Manuel 
had  seen  it  once  before.  Judging  by  the  texture  of  the 
paper,  Manuel  surmised  that  the  tiny  missive  had  come 
from  a  far  country.  It  was  simply  addressed  "  To  the 
Father  Rector  of  the  College,"  in  a  beautiful  hand- 
writing, evidently  that  of  a  woman,  and  if  Manuel  had 
spent  his  young  life  in  the  courts  of  Europe  instead  of 
shutting  himself  up  in  the  cloisters,  he  would  have  known 
that  that  hand  was  royal. 

What  most  attracted  the  young  priest's  attention, 
however,  was  not  so  much  the  handwriting  or  the  seal 
as  the  fact  that  the  envelope  bore  a  Golden  Fleur  de 
Lys,  whilst  the  address  was  written  in  violet  ink.  Im- 
mediately he  placed  it  in  his  bosom,  and,  thrusting  the 
other  letters  into  his  pockets,  turned  to  go. 

"  Be  careful,  brother,"  murmured  the  man  on  the 
mule,  "  and  God  be  with  you !  "  Wherewith  he  rode 
on  towards  the  village,  and  Manuel  sprang  into  the 
wood,  and  went  crackling  twigs  and  crisping  the  fallen 
leaves  under  foot  as  he  made  towards  the  convent. 
When  he  came  to  the  point  where  the  two  roads 
parted,  he  chose  the  more  circuitous  way,  and  wound 
round  the  hillside,  making  for  the  road  that  he  knew 
so  well. 

The  clouds  looked  threatening,  and  a  few  rain-drops 
had  already  fallen ;  there  was  an  ominous  sound  of 

28 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

thunder  in  the  distance.  Along  the  road  that  passed 
beneath  the  avenue  of  chestnuts  the  darkness  was 
almost  as  heavy  as  night. 

Instinctively  he  looked  towards  the  spot  where  Teresa 
used  to  gather  sticks  alongside  a  fallen  poplar.  She  was 
not  there. 

But  a  little  farther  on,  as  fate  would  have  it,  he  caught 
sight  of  her  at  a  turn  in  the  road,  hurrying  home  as  fast 
as  her  feet  would  take  her,  and  with  a  heavy  bundle  of 
faggots  perched  upon  her  head. 

A  thunderstorm  had  commenced  to  rattle  overhead, 
and  occasional  flashes  of  lightning,  followed  rapidly 
by  ear-splitting  crashes  of  thunder,  told  that  the  fringe 
of  the  disturbance  was  already  passing  over  the  forest. 

For  some  hundred  paces  Teresa  did  not  notice  that 
any  one  was  behind  her,  then  she  became  aware  of 
Manuel's  footsteps,  and  turning  suddenly  to  look  round 
with  the  bundle  still  upon  her  head,  stumbled  against 
a  large  stone  and  slightly  sprained  her  ankle.  Down 
came  the  faggots,  and  in  the  midst  of  a  most  awful 
thunderclap  Teresa  suddenly  found  herself  fallen  on 
the  ground  with  a  hazy  impression  that  the  thunder- 
clap was  part  of  the  disaster. 

No  doubt  the  girl  was  much  more  frightened  than 
hurt,  but  for  all  that  she  did  not  attempt  to  rise. 

Manuel  bent  over  her,  but  whether  her  eyes  were 
closed  in  a  genuine  fainting  fit,  or  whether  they  were 
merely  shut  in  order  that  she  might  not  look  upon  so 
modest  a  priest,  or  whether  she  had  not  recognized 
him,  and  thought  that  the  devil  himself  had  got  hold 
of  her,  the  reader  is  left  to  surmise  for  the  present, 
on  the  understanding  that  time  will  clear  up  all  doubts. 

When  Manuel  bent  over  her  and  called  "  j  Hija ! " 
several  times,  and  asked  her  if  she  had  hurt  herself, 
she  did  not  reply. 

29 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

And  the  darkness  gathered  thicker  and  thicker, 
whilst  the  rain  began  to  pour.  If  cold  water  were  all 
the  maid  required  to  bring  her  to,  forsooth  she  had 
enough  of  it.  But  this  evidently  was  a  case  for  smell- 
ing salts,  burnt  feathers,  and  unlacing  of  stays.  At 
least,  Manuel  had  a  dim  recollection  of  such  measures 
having  been  taken  on  similar  occasions  in  his  youth. 
A  pretty  fool  he  was  to  apply  such  remedies !  And 
on  which  side  might  her  stays  happen  to  be  laced  up, 
or  had  she  any  stays  at  all  ? 

Manuel  convinced  himself  that  she  had  not ;  but  ah ! 
what  an  agitating  thing  for  a  young  priest  to  have  to 
verify,  and  thanks  to  the  darkness  that  one  might  not 
see  his  face ! 

After  a  moment's  indecision  Manuel  took  the  girl  in 
his  stalwart  arms  and  bore  her  along  the  road  towards 
the  wood.  He  knew  that  the  hut  was  close  by. 

The  burden  did  not  trouble  him  a  whit ;  he  was 
surprised  to  find  himself  so  strong.  Presently  he 
reached  the  little  clearing  where  stood  the  white- 
washed hut,  with  its  clumsy  red  tiles  and  its  worm- 
eaten  door. 

The  trees  bent  down  and  kissed  the  roof  from  behind 
the  hut,  and  a  fig  tree  grew  in  front  of  it.  Piles  of 
logs  and  smaller  firewood  surrounded  the  clearing. 
The  fowl  had  gone  to  roost  upon  the  logs,  and  there 
was  no  sound  save  from  the  little  spring  which  gurgled 
ten  yards  from  the  door,  and  had,  in  all  likelihood, 
caused  the  old  hut  to  be  built  there,  for  otherwise  the 
site  had  nothing  to  recommend  it. 

Over  the  door  and  under  it  was  streaming  a  dull  red 
glow  from  the  interior,  and  when  Manuel  pushed  his 
way  in  and  peered  through  the  scanty  light  that  was 
afforded  by  the  hearth,  he  saw  a  rude  couch  covered 
by  matting,  on  which  he  tenderly  laid  his  burden ;  then, 

30 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

going  to  the  door,  he  brought  in  a  log  and  some  fag- 
gots, and  flung  them  on  the  embers,  which  hissed  and 
crackled  indignantly;  then  with  the  rush  fan  that  lay 
on  one  side  of  the  hearth  he  kindled  the  cinders  into 
flame. 

The  cottage  inside  was  whitewashed  all  over,  and 
tocino,  dried  herbs,  and  seed  pods  hung  from  the 
gnarled  rafters,  forming  weird  shadows  against  the 
slanting  roof. 

Going  to  the  couch,  he  bent  over  Teresa,  whose  eyes 
were  still  closed.  Then  he  began  to  grow  frightened. 
Surely  so  young  a  woman  could  not  have  fallen  dead 
with  heart  disease  ?  Had  she  been  struck  by  the 
flash  ? 

He  placed  a  hand  on  either  side  of  her,  and,  bending 
down  closely,  listened  for  her  breath.  And  just  then 
the  roguish  flame  that  had  been  leaping  so  honestly  and 
lighting  the  room  right  well,  chose  to  subside,  and  again 
there  was  nothing  but  a  dull  red  glow  all  round  the 
cottage,  so  dull  that  Manuel  could  not  be  quite  sure 
that  her  eyes  were  not  half  open  and  looking  at  him. 
He  bent  yet  closer. 

And  oh !  strange  to  say,  two  arms  rose  slowly 
upwards  and  folded  themselves  around  his  neck  and 
drew  his  head  so  low  that  his  face  touched  hers,  and 
when  he  drew  back  his  lips  were  aflame  with  the  print 
of  a  fervid  kiss. 

The  girl's  arms  fell  by  her  side,  and  she  heaved  a 
mighty  sigh,  then  said  half  audibly  — 

"  Ah  !     It  was  so  good  —  so  good  !  " 

"  What  was  good,  daughter  ?  " 

"  When  you  were  carrying  me." 

Then  a  long  pause,  during  which  his  guilty  eyes 
watched  the  fitful  flame  that  now  and  again  rose,  and 
then  died  out,  as  if  ashamed.  At  last  she  spoke  again  — 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  How  strong  you  are !  " 

"  Where  is  your  mother,  child  ?  " 

"  Gone  to  the  village.  She  must  be  waiting  for  the 
storm  to  pass.  She  will  be  back  anon." 

"  And  your  father  ?  " 

"  He  has  gone  to  Santander,  since  yesterday." 

"  And  who  is  your  father  ? " 

"  Bias  the  charcoal-burner.     He  is  a  giant." 

"  Yet  you  —  are  far  from  a  giantess.  And  how  well 
you  speak  Castilian  !  Are  you  not  Basque  ?  Did  you 
hurt  yourself  ? " 

"  My  foot,  yes  !  " 

"  Does  it  pain  you  ?  " 

"  A  little,  but  I  had  forgotten  it." 

He  turned  his  eyes  towards  her  once  more,  and  she 
rested  her  hand  caressingly  upon  his  shoulder.  Oh ! 
how  his  heart  leaped  and  throbbed.  Then  she  said 
again,  as  if  it  pleased  her  — 

"  How  strong  you  are  !  " 

Then,  when  he  took  her  hands  and  bent  towards  her 
face,  she  laughed  and  whispered  — 

"  You  thought  I  was  fainting.  Not  I !  I  was  watch- 
ing your  face  through  my  eyelashes  all  the  while  you 
carried  me." 

Here  the  flame  went  out  again. 

And,  seeing  that  the  storm  4has  passed  and  the  door 
is  partly  open,  you  and  I  will  go  out  too. 


CHAPTER   III 

Falstaff.  "  I  did  not  think  that  Master  Silence  had  been  a  man 
of  this  mettle." 

King  Henry  IV. 

WHEN  Manuel  reached  the  college  gates  he  was 
panting  for  breath  and  pale  of  face.  Orders 
had  been  left  that  he  was  to  go  direct  to  the  room  of 
the  Father  Rector,  and,  gathering  himself  together  and 
bidding  his  heart  be  still,  he  straightway  sought  the  old 
man's  presence,  and  stood  before  him  all  unkempt,  his 
garments  soaked  with  rain  and  his  feet  covered  to  the 
ankles  in  mud. 

A  cheerful  fire  was  burning  upon  the  hearth,  for  the 
evening  was  somewhat  cold.  Beside  the  hearth  sat  the 
good  father  in  his  easy  chair.  He  smiled  at  the  young 
man's  haste  and  stains  of  travel  with  benevolent  ap- 
proval, and,  laying  his  book  upon  the  reading  desk  at  his 
side,  first  pulled  the  bell,  then  raised  the  lamp  shade,  so 
that  the  light  shone  upon  Manuel's  face,  and,  folding  his 
hands  together,  leant  back  in  his  easy  chair. 

The  door  opened,  and  a  lay  brother  came  in. 

"  Set  a  cover  upon  the  refectory  table  beside  the  fire," 
commanded  the  Rector.  "  Some  of  the  chicken  broth 
we  had  at  dinner,  boiling  hot ;  a  cutlet,  and  a  decanter 
of  Malaga  wine." 

But  Manuel's  eyes  did  not  sparkle,  though  for  ten 
hours  he  had  not  broken  his  fast. 

"And  now,"  said  the  Padre  Rector  with  the  keen 
relish  of  curiosity  about  to  be  gratified,  "let  us  see  what 
our  zealous  and  trusty  scout  has  brought  us  in." 
D  33 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

Manuel  put  his  hand  in  the  bosom  of  his  vest,  plunged 
it  deeper  and  deeper,  grew  redder  and  redder  in  the  face, 
opened  his  mouth  wider  and  wider,  and  stared  at  the 
Rector  aghast. 

"  What  is  amiss  ? "  asked  the  latter,  beginning  to  feel 
uncomfortable. 

"  I  have  lost  it." 

"Lost  what?" 

"  The  letter  bearing  a  Golden  Fleur  de  Lys." 

"  j  Jesus,  Maria  y  Jose  ! " 

The  little  Rector  was  now  on  his  feet,  his  hands  raised 
to  his  spectacles,  which  he  endeavoured  to  adjust  to 
some  such  focus  as  would  make  things  wear  a  different 
aspect. 

"  Feel  again  !  " 

Manuel  felt  again,  turned  out  from  his  pockets  the 
four  or  five  ordinary  letters,  which  the  Rector  threw 
impatiently  aside,  and  made  so  diligent  a  search  that  it 
could  not  very  well  have  been  more  thorough  were  he 
looking  for  a  flea. 

"There  is  no  doubt,  Father,  I  have  lost  it." 

For  a  moment  the  Rector  sat  down,  then  bounced  to 
his  feet  and  rang  the  bell  furiously.  The  lay  brother 
came  in  again,  and  venturing  to  speak  first  — 

"  I  have  already  placed  the  broth  and  wine  upon  the 
refectory  table." 

"Truly?"  cried  the  Rector.  "Then,  sir,  mark  me 
well.  You  may  take  the  broth  and  pour  it  out  of  the 
refectory  window,  you  may  throw  the  cutlet  into  the  re- 
fectory fire,  and  you  may  give  the  Mdlaga  wine  to  His 
Majesty  the  Devil,  who  happens  to  be  somewhere  in  the 
vicinity  this  very  night.  Stay!  where  are  you  going?  " 

"  To  do  as  I  am  bidden." 

"  First  of  all  find  Padre  Bartolome\  and  bid  him 
prepare  a  squad  of  twelve  or  fourteen  brothers,  all  with 

34 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

torches.  Something  has  been  lost  in  the  woods,  and 
no  one  shall  sleep  to-night  until  we  find  it." 

When  the  door  had  closed,  the  Father  Rector  began 
to  speak  his  mind. 

"  Do  you  know,  sir,  what  you  have  done  ?  "  he  asked, 
suddenly  halting  in  the  middle  of  one  of  his  frantic 
passages  across  the  room  with  his  hands  clasped  tightly 
behind  his  back. 

Manuel  hung  his  head. 

"  Have  you  realized  the  totally  unimaginable  disaster 
that  has  befallen  ? " 

Manuel  was  silent. 

"  No,  you  cannot.     I  didn't  expect  you  could." 

After  another  turn  or  two  the  old  man  came  up  to 
him,  and,  looking  closely  into  his  face  and  tapping  him 
on  the  chest  — 

"  You  have  lost  a  letter  such  as  before  now  has  set 
one  nation  warring  with  another ;  you  have  lost  a  letter 
such  as  might  ruin  the  prospects  of  a  crowned  head ; 
you  have  lost  a  letter  which  may  undo  the  Company 
of  Jesus  and  set  them  back  a  century  or  more.  That 
letter  contained  the  key  to  the  cypher  of  all  the  docu- 
ments we  have  received  from  a  certain  country  in  the 
past  few  days,  and  of  several  that  may  still  be  on  the 
way.  And,  what  is  worse,  there  is  reason  to  believe 
that  some  of  those  documents  have  been  waylaid. 

"  And  now,  my  God  !  you  straightway  furnish  them 
with  the  key !  And  no  one  knows  what  was  in  the 
letter  besides,  written  in  plain  Spanish,  for  the  great 
lady  who  wrote  it  is  apt  to  be  careless  at  times.  She 
may  have  offered  assistance,  which  will  not  be  forthcom- 
ing now,  for  I  cannot  accept  it  unless  I  know  for  cer- 
tain. And  she  may  have  named  dukes  and  marquises 
that  are  toiling  like  slaves  in  the  good  cause,  aye !  and 
may  be  toiling  to-morrow  in  the  galleys,  thanks  to  you  !  " 

35 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Thus  did  the  infuriated  Rector  chide  Manuel,  and  said 
to  him  many  bitter  things  besides.  At  length,  seeing 
that  the  young  priest  was  suffering  most  intensely,  and 
being  a  considerate  man  at  heart  and  a  good  Jesuit  to 
boot,  he  refrained  from  further  scolding  and  went  out 
to  organize  the  search. 

Down  in  the  valley  that  night,  and  from  the  opposite 
hillside,  one  or  two  wakeful  people,  who  certainly  should 
have  been  in  bed,  were  amazed  by  a  curious  sight. 
On  the  following  morning,  when  they  narrated  the 
event,  their  neighbours  looked  upon  them  roguishly  and 
winked  to  one  another  behind  their  hats,  ascribing  the 
impression  to  aguardiente.  In  course  of  time,  however, 
it  was  found  that  so  many  drunken  men  had  observed 
the  same  phenomenon  that  there  must  surely  be  some 
truth  in  it.  This  is  what  they  saw. 

First,  from  the  Jesuit  College  in  the  valley  there 
came  out  a  line  of  light.  Little  by  little  this  line 
spread  itself  out  until  it  was  seen  to  consist  of  some 
fourteen  or  fifteen  stars. 

These  stars  then  wandered  from  side  to  side,  some- 
times eclipsing  themselves  behind  the  trees,  anon  re- 
appearing in  the  open. 

After  more  than  an  hour,  the  foremost  star  worked  its 
way  on  to  the  high  road,  and  then  the  other  stars  joined 
it  one  by  one,  all  combining  to  form  one  star  of  great 
magnitude. 

Then,  after  ten  minutes'  pause,  this  large  star  com- 
menced shooting  off  small  stars  into  the  woods  again, 
and  eventually  the  whole  constellation  regained  the 
college  and  disappeared. 

Not  only  was  this  extraordinary  spectacle  witnessed 
by  the  late  retirers  overnight,  but  the  early  risers  on 
the  morrow  were  surprised  at  the  unwonted  number  of 
Jesuits,  who,  three  and  three,  with  book  in  hand,  came 

36 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

wandering  from  the  convent,  sniffing  the  morning  air, 
and  revelling  in  the  beauties  of  Nature.  Indeed,  it  was 
remarkable  how  curiously  they  scanned  the  fallen  leaves, 
which  certainly  had  tints  in  them  deserving  of  admira- 
tion. Some  people  conjectured  that  the  good  fathers 
were  looking  for  mushrooms,  but  they  were  wrong. 

Not  once,  nor  twice,  nor  thrice,  but  many  times,  did 
Padre  Bartolome  ask  sternly  of  Manuel,  "  Have  we 
passed  over  every  foot  of  the  ground?"  and  each  time 
Manuel  answered  him,  "  Yes." 

But  Manuel's  answer  was  not  quite  correct.  It  con- 
tained an  error  of  just  about  one  per  cent.  Later  in 
the  day  Manuel  found  himself  busied  over  the  following 
problem :  — 

If  in  a  path  of  five  thousand  yards  one  searches  all 
but  fifty,  and  cannot  discover  a  letter  that  has  been 
dropped  along  that  path,  where  is  the  letter  ? 

And  it  is  evident  that  Manuel  had  puzzled  out  the 
solution  of  this  problem,  for,  as  soon  as  he  was  allowed 
an  opportunity,  he  sought  Teresa,  whom  he  found  at 
her  usual  task  of  gathering  faggots  for  making  charcoal 
and  for  selling  in  the  town.  To  be  sure,  she  was  very 
daintily  dressed  for  a  hewer  of  wood  and  drawer  of  water. 

"  I  have  not  seen  your  love  letter,"  cried  the  girl 
hotly,  with  a  wave  of  her  hand. 

"  Indeed,  it  was  no  love  letter." 

"  No  love  letter  ?  Then  why  are  you  so  eager  to 
find  it?" 

"Because  —  " 

"  Because  you  are  burning  to  read  all  the  soft  things 
that  she  says  to  you"  (this  very  bitterly)  "and  all  the 
'darlings'  and  'sweethearts'  that  she  calls  you"  (put- 
ting her  hands  upon  her  hips  and  her  arms  akimbo), 
"  and  to  count  the  kisses  she  sends  you,  and  you  a  priest. 
Where  is  your  shame  ? " 

37 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

"  Teresa,  have  pity  —  I  tell  you  the  truth,  it  was  no 
love  letter.  It  contained  matters  of  vast  importance, 
matters  more  weighty  than  you  can  dream  of,  secrets 
that  might  ruin  a  man." 

The  girl  leant  against  a  tree  and  regarded  him  for  a 
moment  with  curiosity ;  then,  coming  towards  him  and 
resting  her  hands  upon  his  shoulders  — 

"  '  Secrets  that  might  ruin  a  man  '  ?  Then  they  are 
secrets  that  might  make  a  man." 

"  How  so  ? " 

"A  secret  that  can  mar  a  man  is  a  secret  that  can 
make  a  man,"  repeated  Teresa  cryptically  and  with 
much  relish. 

"  And  you  have  not  seen  it  ? " 

Her  quick  eyes  glanced  at  him,  she  paused  a  moment, 
then  answered  boldly  — 

"  No !  Nor,  did  I  see  it,  should  I  know  how  to  read 
it." 

Whereupon  she  clasped  him  round  the  neck  and 
kissed  his  face,  nor  would  she  allow  him  to  resume  his 
questioning. 

#*#**»»» 

Some  months  after  the  mysterious  disappearance  of 
the  letter  marked  with  a  Fleur  de  Lys,  Antonio  and 
Manuel  were  pacing  up  and  down  the  road  that  led  to 
the  convent. 

It  was  eventide,  the  sun  was  about  to  set,  and  in  all 
the  countryside  the  goats  were  being  driven  in  by 
ragged  urchins,  who  hastened  the  loiterers  with  well- 
directed  pebbles.  Only  the  younger  goats  appeared 
to  need  such  pressing,  the  elders  preferring  to  keep 
well  in  the  front,  or,  if  perchance  they  lingered,  their 
instinct  told  them  when  their  persecutor  was  stooping 
for  a  stone,  and  before  the  missile  was  sped  upon  its 
way,  they  would  carry  their  buttocks  'elsewhere  with 

38 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

a  derisive  "  Boh-r-r,"  which  was  audible  across  the 
valley  in  the  stillness  of  the  evening. 

Antonio  was  in  his  riding  clothes,  and  every  now  and 
then  he  slapped  his  leggings  with  his  whip  or  cut  the 
head  off  a  tempting  thistle.  His  air  was  as  careless  as 
ever,  his  brow  unclouded,  his  mood  serene.  And  if  he 
had  not  retired  to  rest  until  early  morning,  be  sure  that 
he  had  not  risen  till  after  noon. 

"  I  thought  you  wanted  to  see  me  about  something 
urgent,"  said  Antonio,  throwing  his  whip  ever  so  high 
and  catching  it  again.  "  Your  letter  gave  me  quite  a 
start.  I  never  knew  you  wrote  so  badly,  chico." 

"  It  is  so  long  since  I  saw  you,"  murmured  Manuel, 
looking  on  the  ground. 

Evidently  there  was  something  more  to  come,  and 
Manuel  did  not  know  how  to  make  a  beginning.  An- 
tonio, indeed,  suspected  that  such  was  the  case,  but  he 
was  either  too  callous  or  too  asinine  to  help  him  with 
his  difficulty,  and  continued  to  hum  a  tune  and  to  throw 
his  whip  about.  Occasionally  the  young  priest  darted 
a  quick  glance  at  him  from  out  of  the  corner  of  his 
eye,  and  there  was  a  growing  something,  very  much  like 
contempt,  intermingled  with  the  uneasiness,  that  had 
marked  his  features  ever  since  he  saw  Antonio  coming 
up  the  hill  upon  his  nag. 

A  struggle  was  going  on  in  Manuel's  brain  'twixt 
pride  and  prudence.  And  to  hide  him  from  the  gath- 
ering storm  he  was  even  willing,  like  Trinculo,  to  creep 
in  under  the  mooncalf's  gaberdine. 

After  a  lengthy  pause  he  thus  began  — 

"  I  suppose  that,  in  the  course  of  your  harebrained 
freaks,  you  have  had  many  affairs  of  gallantry  ? " 

"  I  suppose  so  !  "  answered  Antonio  drily,  raising  his 
eyebrows. 

Manuel  paused  again  for  a  moment  and  stooped  to 

39 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

gather  a  fern  leaf  at  his  feet.  He  had  assumed  a  tone 
which  was  almost  frivolous,  and  certainly  it  was  most 
distasteful  to  him.  Yet  he  felt  that  Antonio  would 
only  laugh  at  him  if  he  laid  bare  his  heart  with  all  its 
surging  hopes  and  fears.  With  all  his  quiet  scorn  for 
Antonio's  shallowness,  he  flinched  before  his  cruel 
buffoonery.  And  this  was  the  judge  to  whom  he  must 
needs  submit  himself ! 

"  Of  course  —  you  never  chat  to  me  about  such 
things,  because  —  you  have  got  it  into  your  head  that 
the  subject  is  obnoxious  to  me." 

"  Since  when  has  it  been  attractive  to  you,  brother 
priest  ? " 

"  I  did  not  say  that  it  was  exactly  —  attractive." 

"  Then  what  the  devil  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  I  implied  that  the  subject  was  not  quite  so  obnoxious 
to  me  as  you  thought." 

"  Same  thing,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Oh  dear  no !  " 

"  Well,  what  are  you  going  round  and  round  in  cir- 
cles for  ?  what's  amiss  ? " 

"  Nothing ! " 

Antonio  began  to  grow  impatient,  and  whistled  with 
a  resigned  air,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  If  you  won't  tell  me 
what  is  the  matter,  you  won't,  and  I  am  sure  it  does  not 
trouble  me  much  whether  you  do  or  not." 

This,  indeed,  was  not  the  first  time  that  Manuel  had 
thus  attempted  to  unbosom  himself,  and  had  come  to  a 
full  stop.  He  cleared  his  throat,  and,  looking  very 
hard  at  the  fern  stalk  which  he  twiddled  between  his 
thumb  and  finger,  and  growing  just  a  shade  paler,  he 
said  — 

"  Well,  if  you  must  know  — 

"Must  know!  I  don't  insist  at  all.  Say  what  you 
like." 

40 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"Well,  I  wish  to  tell  you." 

"  Ah  !     That  is  '  flour  out  of  another  bin,'  chico  !  " 
"  I  must  first  of  all  tell  you  that  we  are  all  of  us  weak 
at  times." 


"  Yes  !  Weak,  that  is  to  say,  in  —  ever  so  many  little 
things.  One  indulges  in  too  much  food  or  too  much 
sleep,  for  instance,  or  one  —  reads  a  forbidden  book 
that  is  good  for  naught." 

"Ah!" 

"  Or  one  yields  to  light  thoughts  at  a  moment  when 
prayer  and  fasting  have  been  ordained." 

"  Quite  so  !  " 

"  Or  one  loiters  along  the  pleasant  paths  in  the  sum- 
mer-time, when  the  day's  task  has  yet  to  be  completed." 

"  Very  true  !     I  have  done  it  myself." 

"  All  these  things  have  I  done." 

"  Humph  !  " 

"  And  more  !  " 

"Oh!" 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  '  Oh  '  ?  " 

"  That  now  we  are  coming  to  it.  Don't  let  me  inter- 
rupt you." 

"  I  have  done  much  more  than  all  these,  Antonio,  and 
I  am  a  wretched  sinner." 

"The  devil!" 

"  And  "  —  here  Manuel  with  a  sudden  outburst  threw 
all  refinements  to  the  winds  —  "I  have  asked  you  to 
come  in  order  that  you  might  help  us  in  our  great 
affliction." 

Antonio  came  to  a  standstill  with  both  hands  buried 
very  deeply  in  his  pockets  and  his  short  whip  standing 
out  of  one  of  them  like  a  flagstaff.  He  opened  his  eyes 
very  wide  and  shouted  — 

"  '  Us  '  !     How  many  of  you  are  there  ?  " 

41 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"At  present  —  only  two." 

"What?" 

Manuel  hung  down  his  head,  and  muttered  something 
half  intelligibly. 

Antonio  then  sat  down  firmly  on  the  ground  with  his 
hands  still  in  his  pockets  and  his  legs  wide  apart,  without 
taking  his  eyes  for  one  moment  off  his  brother's  face, 
and  thus  for  some  little  time  regarded  him  open-mouthed 
in  blank  astonishment.  But  if  the  young  Jesuit  gath- 
ered from  this  beginning  that  Antonio  was  capable  of 
taking  the  matter  seriously,  he  was  much  mistaken. 

Nothing  would  have  better  satisfied  Manuel  in  his 
distress  than  for  Antonio  to  revile  him,  to  reason  with 
him,  expostulate  with  him,  and  then,  gradually  over- 
coming the  first  few  moments  of  anger,  to  condole  with 
him  and  discuss  the  happiest  issue  out  of  his  affliction. 

But  Antonio,  after  staring  open-mouthed  for  fully 
thirty  seconds,  placed  his  hands  between  his  knees,  and 
began  rocking  himself  backward  and  forward,  with  the 
most  horrible  contortions  of  the  face,  then,  springing  to 
his  feet  as  if  he  could  control  himself  no  longer,  held 
both  his  sides  and  laughed  first  "  Ho  !•  ho !  ho !  "  then 
"  Ha !  ha !  ha !  "  then  "  He !  he !  he !  "  like  the  great  ass 
that  he  was  and  ever  would  be.  And  after  he  had  made 
an  exhibition  of  himself  in  this  manner  for  more  time 
than  Manuel  would  have  thought  possible,  he  lay  on  the 
ground  laughing  wearily,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  and 
looking  every  now  and  again  over  his  shoulder  at  his 
brother,  then  turning  away  to  laugh  again  and  kicking 
one  leg  up  into  the  air  in  a  derisive  way  that  he  had 
when  he  wished  to  be  very  funny. 

The  Jesuit  stood  looking  down  at  him  with  curled  lip. 

At  length  Antonio  arose,  and,  giving  his  brother  a 
round-armed  slap  upon  the  shoulders,  cried  very  boister- 
ously — 

42 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  Well  done,  chico  !  well  done  !  So  that  you  managed 
to  forget  for  an  hour  that  you  were  a  priest,  and  to 
remember  that  you  were  a  man.  And  what  have  you 
told  this  to  me  for  ? " 

"  Certainly  not  in  the  hope  of  receiving  good  counsel 
or  assistance,"  replied  Manuel  bitterly. 

"  I  don't  know  so  much  about  that.  Who  is  to  help 
you  if  I  can't,  chico  ?  And  is  the  lady  old  or  is  she 
young,  is  she  dark  or  fair,  thin  or  fat,  or  is  she  — 
j  caracoles  !  —  you  little  devil !  You  don't  mean  to  say 
she  is  a  nun  ? " 

"  I  never  said  anything  of  the  kind.  She  is  a  char- 
coal-burner's daughter." 

"  Ah  ya !  In  the  pleasant  shadows  when  the  night- 
ingale is  singing  tra-la-la,  tra-la-la,  eh  ?  And  is  there  a 
spring  that  gurgles  past  the  cottage  door  ?  " 

"  Yes.     How  did  you  know  ?  " 

"  Because  there  always  is  a  spring.  It  is  one  of  the 
symptoms.  And  how  did  it  all  happen  ? " 

Manuel's  blushes  implied  that  this  was  too  searching  a 
question  ;  therefore  the  other  changed  it  to  — 

"  How  did  you  get  to  know  her  ? " 

"  We  looked  into  each  other's  eyes  and  — .  What  is 
the  matter  with  you  ? " 

"  Nothing  !     Go  on  !  " 

"  At  last,  one  evening  in  a  terrible  storm,  she  slipped 
and  sprained  her  ankle,  just  as  she  was  walking  along 
in  front  of  me." 

"  And  what  did  you  do  ? " 

"  I  carried  her  in  my  arms  to  the  cottage." 

"  Naturally !  The  shepherd  bringing  in  the  wounded 
lamb.  Well  ? " 

"And  then  —  " 

"  Yes  ?  " 

Manuel  still  faltered  and  hung  down  his  head.  An- 

43 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

tonio  glanced  at  him  sideways,  his  features  working, 
then  suddenly  he  raised  his  right  arm  above  his  head,  as 
though  addressing  the  heavens,  and  roared  out  the  old 
Murciana  verse :  — 

"  Rosa,  si  no  te  cojf-i-i- 
Rosa,  si  no  te  coji-i-i-i- 
Fue'  por  que  no  me  dio  gana-a-a-."1 

"Why  do  you  play  the  fool?"  said  Manuel  angrily. 

"  Because,  little  brother  of  my  soul !  "  replied  An- 
tonio, clapping  him  on  the  shoulder,  "  I  must  either 
sing  or  laugh  or  burst !  " 

Antonio's  loud  solo  had  roused  some  birds  on  a  tree 
branch  just  over  their  heads.  Antonio  glanced  up  into 
the  dark  foliage  to  see  what  all  this  fluttering  and  twit- 
tering meant,  then  back  to  his  brother's  face.  And  he 
read  in  the  eyes  of  Manuel  such  growing  resentment 
that  he  took  him  by  the  arm  and  said,  reassuringly  and 
impetuously  — 

"  If  you  want  help,  lad,  faith,  you  have  come  to  the 
right  quarter  for  it.  I  am  with  you  in  this  business 
through  thick  and  thin,  never  fear !  Now,  first  of  all, 
I  suppose  you  have  confessed  ?  " 

"  Confessed  !     And  still  a  member  of  the  college  !  " 

"  Well  —  but  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  Give  up  the 
priesthood  for  a  beginning,  eh  ?  " 

"  No ! "  replied  Manuel,  coming  to  a  standstill  and 
knitting  his  brows  with  much  determination. 

"  Then  you  are  a  great  fool !  Surely  you've  had 
enough  of  this  masquerading  in  a  gown  ?  Surely  you 
can  see  you  are  not  fitted  for  it  ?  j  Caracoles !  You 
have  risen  ten  inches  in  my  esteem ;  don't,  for  God's 
sake,  fall  back  twenty,  by  telling  me  you  still  mean  to 
be  a  lantern-jawed  priest !  Why,  lad,  you  have  the 

1  "  Rose,  if  I  plucked  thee  not,  'twas  because  I  did  not  choose." 
44 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

making  of  as  brave  a  man  in  you  as  ever  danced  a 
bolero  or  faced  a  bull,  j  Jesus  !  If  you'd  only  tie  your 
petticoats  round  your  waist  and  catch  hold  of  a  guitar, 
there  are  women  in  Madrid  would  trip  it  on  the  table  as 
long  as  you  liked  to  play  to  them,  aye,  and  drink  out  of 
the  same  copa  with  you,  duchesses  and  countesses ! 
Do  you  know,  chiquito,  that  you'd  make  more  havoc  in 
the  dovecots,  with  that  pensive  face  of  yours,  than  Don 
Juan  Tenorio  himself  ?  " 

Manuel  made  an  impatient  gesture. 

"  My  ambition,"  said  he,  "is  far  otherwise." 

"  And  what  is  your  ambition  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  tempted  and  have  fallen,  but  there  is 
yet  time  for  me  to  repent  and  become  a  good  priest." 

"Oh !  of  course !  "  rejoined  Antonio,  pushing  his 
tongue  into  his  cheek,  "if  you  confess  and  are  ab- 
solved." 

He  looked  at  Manuel  under  his  eyebrows. 

Manuel  bit  his  lip  and  seemed  troubled.  After  a 
while  he  went  on  — 

"  My  determination  is  even  greater  than  before.  I 
would  sooner  gain  distinction  as  a  priest  —  and  espe- 
cially a  Jesuit  priest — than  any  other  distinction  that  I 
can  think  of.  And  this  we  must  not  call  ambition,  for 
the  greatest  among  us  is  the  lowliest." 

Antonio  sighed,  and  began  to  cut  at  the  thistle  stalks 
again. 

"  God  has  given  me  a  sign,"  continued  Manuel,  as 
though  speaking  to  himself,  for  now  that  Antonio's  de- 
risive mood  had  ended,  he  no  longer  treated  him  seri- 
ously, and  even  fell  to  musing.  "  There  is  no  true 
happiness  in  this  life  but  calm.  The  joys  of  mankind 
—  what  are  they?  Each  succeeded  by  bitter  penance! 
For  me  the  even  pleasure  of  communion  with  my  soul, 
of  studying  my  Redeemer  and  His  will.  Joy  is  a  riot, 

45 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

in  whatever  shape  or  form,  outside  the  cloister.  Joy 
brings  Catastrophe  fast  treading  upon  his  heels.  God 
has  given  me  a  sign,  and  the  devil  attempts  to  bar  my 
path  at  every  turning.  God  still  wills  it  that  I  should 
devote  my  life  to  Him." 

"And  — the  girl?" 

"Teresa  and  I  part  for  ever.  There  is  no  other 
way." 

"  It  is  all  arranged,  then  ?  " 

"  No  ;  that  is  partly  why  I  wished  to  see  you." 

"  What  whistle  am  /  to  blow  in  this  business  ?  " 

"  Has  it  not  occurred  to  you  how  you  might  assist 
me?" 

"Frankly,  it  has  not  dawned.     I  always  was  an  ass." 

"At  all  events,"  said  Manuel,  threading  his  arm 
through  his  brother's,  "  you  always  were  a  rake,  and 
there  is  no  telling  how  many  affairs  you  have  been 
mixed  up  in,  or  —  what  are  the  results." 

"  I  like  candour." 

"  Yes,  and  now  I  am  coming  to  the  point.  Let  me 
ask  you  frankly,  Antonio,  amongst  so  many  scandals 
that  have  been  laid  at  your  door  (some,  perhaps,  un- 
justly) is  it  possible  that  one  more  scandal  would  be 
either  here  or  there  ? " 

"Oh-h-h-h!" 

"  You  begin  to  understand  ? " 

"  Qib,  perfectly  " 

"And  the  idea  —  does  not  please  you?  " 

"  Let  me  stop  for  a  moment  to  consider.  There  is  a 
sensation  beginning  to  dawn,  but  I  am  not  quite  sure 
whether  it  is  agony  or  delight.  Go  on  a  little  farther 
with  your  proposals." 

"Antonio,  do  not  let  us  fool  each  other  when  such 
vital  issues  are  at  stake.  Either  you  will  or  you  will 
not.  Which  is  it  to  be  ?  Let  me  place  before  you 

46 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

straightforwardly  my  proposition.  What  harm  would 
it  do  you  to  remove  this  girl  to  another  part  of  the 
country,  to  make  her  an  allowance,  and  to  let  people 
form  whatever  conclusions  they  like  ?  If  you  will  not,  I 
must  perforce  give  up  my  future,  claim  from  you  an 
allowance  for  myself,  and  —  and  marry  her." 

"  Don't  be  a  fool !  I  haven't  yet  refused  you,  have 
I  ?  Now  let  me  give  you  my  answer.  I  will  take  your 
sweetheart  away  with  me  to  Santa  Fe  ;  she  shall  have 
a  cottage  to  live  in  and  an  onza  every  month  to  spend, 
and  —  let  people  say  what  the  devil  they  please  !  What 
does  it  matter  to  me  ? " 

"  To  Santa  Fe  ? "  said  Manuel  thoughtfully,  and  took 
his  brother's  arm. 

They  continued  to  pace  along  the  road  and  to  de- 
velop their  arrangements  for  fully  another  hour.  At 
length  from  across  the  valley  came  the  distant  tinkle  of 
a  church  bell,  and  Antonio,  looking  at  his  watch,  found 
that  la  oracion  had  already  come  and  gone,  and,  looking 
at  the  moon,  saw  that  it  was  climbing  up  above  the 
tree-tops. 

It  was  yet  possible  for  them  to  reach  the  college  in 
time  for  praying  souls  out  of  purgatory  (Las  animas), 
and  as  Antonio's  horse  was  tied  up  in  the  yard  and  he 
wished  to  kiss  the  Rector's  hand  before  departing,  they 
turned  their  faces  towards  the  college  once  again,  and 
went  talking  eagerly  and  looking  up  at  the  multitude 
of  windows,  whence  streamed  a  yellow  light,  and  at 
the  sparkling  tiles  which  the  moon  was  already  glinting. 

And  Manuel,  although  he  did  not  fully  unbosom  him- 
self to  his  brother,  felt  most  profoundly  thankful  that 
deliverance  was  at  hand,  and  believed  it  to  be  God's 
will  that  he  should  escape  from  the  results  of  his 
transgression. 


47 


CHAPTER    IV 

"  Yet  fain  the  mind  its  anguish  would  forego  — 

Spread  then,  historic  Muse,  thy  pictured  scroll ; 
Bid  thy  great  scenes  in  all  their  splendour  glow, 
And  swell  to  thought  sublime  the  exalted  soul." 

BEATTIE. 

TWO  years  passed  by,  and  Spain  no  longer  knew 
the  Jesuits.  Convents  in  ruins,  convents  made 
into  barracks,  and  convents  whose  darkened  windows 
looked  sadly  inwards  on  the  past,  were  all  that  re- 
mained to  tell  of  them. 

Up  to  a  certain  evening,  which  was  destined  to  mark 
a  crisis  in  the  young  priest's  spiritual  life,  Manuel  had 
been  living  in  something  not  unlike  a  fool's  paradise. 

First  and  foremost  was  his  calling  as  a  priest  —  that 
before  all  things. 

Yet  there  was  one  episode  in  his  life  which  had  never 
been  confessed,  and  Manuel  thought  that  he  might 
keep  it  apart  like  a  secret  treasure  trove,  which  one  is 
loth  to  surrender  and  peeps  at  every  night  by  candle- 
light when  other  eyes  are  closed. 

His  relations  with  Teresa  had  lasted  just  long  enough 
to  leave  him  half  intoxicated.  One  month  more  might 
have  brought  satiety,  disillusionment,  freedom. 

Manuel  parted  from  Teresa,  not  because  his  love  for 
her  was  weak,  but  because  his  devotion  to  his  faith  was 
still  greater.  Believing  in  the  Christ,  Manuel  could  un- 
derstand no  compromise.  He  must  devote  his  every 
moment  to  His  service,  let  others  do  what  they  might. 
He  gave  himself  up  with  fervour,  almost  with  passion, 

48 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

and  at  that  critical  period  of  his  life,  even  woman's  love 
could  not  dissuade  him  from  his  purpose. 

Still,  Manuel  saw  that  God  had  given  human  love 
to  man  below  as  a  kind  of  temporary  solatium  whilst 
waiting  for  paradise,  and  he  acknowledged  to  himself 
that  the  solatium  was  great,  and  that  human  love  was 
passing  sweet. 

Poor  fool !  Without  clearly  understanding  what  he 
did,  he  was  trying  to  reconcile  this  human  love  with  his 
duty  as  a  priest.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  might  love 
this  woman  to  his  heart's  content,  so  long  as  they  did 
not  meet  each  other  day  by  day  as  man  and  wife.  Had 
she  been  able  to  read  and  write,  he  would  have  corre- 
sponded with  her  in  secret.  His  parting  with  her  was 
woe  unutterable.  Outside  the  cottage  he  had  fallen 
upon  his  knees  and  had  seen  in  the  heavens  a  smiling 
acknowledgment  of  this  sacrifice.  Under  no  other  con- 
ditions could  he  have  left  her ;  glory,  riches,  fame,  all 
had  been  unavailing. 

Thus  Manuel  left  Spain  with  a  darling  romance 
hugged  closely  to  his  heart.  The  episode  had  lent  that 
feature  of  a  mysterious  and  hopeless  love  which  nine 
young  priests  out  of  ten  would  fain  have  written  in  their 
biographies  —  only  that  in  Manuel's  case  it  was  very 
real. 

And  there  still  lurked  in  Manuel's  brain  a  dim,  un- 
fashioned  hope  of  something  still  to  come,  some  final 
reconciliation  of  his  duty  to  his  Creator  with  his  duty  to 
the  woman. 

Many  a  time  and  oft  he  would  pause  to  think  of 
Teresa,  to  assure  himself  of  her  constancy,  of  her  appre- 
ciation of  their  relations  in  exactly  the  same  light 
whereby  he  himself  had  seen  them.  When  Manuel, 
on  his  knees  in  Guipuzcoa  at  the  hour  of  the  Angelus, 
prayed  for  Teresa,  his  spirit  whispered  to  him  that 
E  49 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Teresa  on  her  knees  in  Santa  Fe  was  praying  for 
Manuel.  He  knew  little  of  women,  and  of  women 
such  as  Teresa  scarcely  anything  at  all. 

The  monks  of  Loyola  de  Guipuzcoa  were  the  last  to 
leave  Spain,  and  Manuel  was  even  last  amongst  the 
rearguard.  He  wrote  a  farewell  letter  to  Antonio,  and 
that  impetuous  person  sent  word  that  he  would  come  to 
Santander  to  bid  him  God-speed. 

Nearly  two  years  had  passed  since  the  brothers  had 
met,  and  Antonio,  living  in  Madrid  in  a  whirl  of  gaiety, 
had  almost  forgotten  the  young  priest.  Without  defi- 
nitely conceiving  the  news  that  Antonio  was  to  bring 
him,  Manuel,  from  the  moment  that  he  heard  the  mourn- 
ful creak  of  the  great  doors  of  Loyola  as  they  closed 
on  the  last  Jesuit,  hurried  to  the  rendezvous  brimful  of 
anticipation.  The  nearer  the  diligence  brought  him  to 
Santander,  the  more  did  he  glow  with  an  ill-suppressed 
eagerness,  and  this  eagerness  was  none  the  less  thrilling 
for  the  fact  that  his  conscience  pricked  him. 

It  was  in  the  side  room  of  a  little  Fonda  that  Antonio 
awaited  Manuel.  It  was  winter  time,  and  the  traveller, 
having  just  supped,  was  standing  with  his  back  to  the 
open  hearth  in  front  of  the  empty  plates  and  dishes,  his 
cloak  thrown  over  one  arm  and  his  gloves  in  the  other 
hand. 

After  they  had  greeted  one  another  very  heartily, 
Manuel  sat  down  beside  the  cheerful  fire  and  asked 
"  the  latest  news." 

"Well,"  said  Antonio,  considering  for  a  few  moments 
and  looking  at  a  crack  in  the  tiles  between  his  feet, 
"  Santa  Fe  became  too  warm  for  me." 

Manuel  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"  Lawsuits  about  this,  about  that,  and  about  the  other, 
and  every  one  of  them  goes  against  me,  chico." 

"What  sort  of  lawsuits?" 

50 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE  SHRINE 

"  Disputes  about  boundaries,  raised  on  the  most 
frivolous  pretexts ;  disputes  about  cattle,  which  are  said 
to  have  broken  down  fences  and  eaten  more  corn  in 
an  hour  than  the  cavalry  of  Napoleon  ate  in  a  couple 
of  years ;  disputes  about  taxes  —  You  know  the  old 
story,  how  a  war  of  vengeance  is  carried  on." 

"  And  what  have  you  done  that  they  should  persecute 
you  thus  ? " 

"  What  ?     You  ask  me  that  ?     You,  a  Jesuit?  " 

"  Why  shouldn't  I  ?  " 

"  Because,"  said  Antonio  stolidly,  "  I  am  persecuted 
for  being  one  of  you." 

"  Oh — h  !  "  said  Manuel,  looking  at  him,  and  was 
silent  for  a  while.  Then  he  rose  from  his  chair,  and, 
confronting  Antonio  with  a  smile  of  amusement  — 

"  What,"  he  asked,  "  have  you  done  besides  ? " 

"  Eh  ?  "  said  Antonio,  falling  back  a  pace. 

"  My  memory  is  not  very  clear  about  it,"  continued 
Manuel,  "  but  I  fancy  that  I  remember  hearing  of  some 
good  lady  or  other  —  was  it  not  a  countess  ?  —  whom 
you  treated  very  shabbily  in  Santa  Fe.  Or  is  that 
merely  part  of  the  persecution  ?  " 

Antonio  strode  up  to  the  window,  and  looked  out  for 
a  few  moments  with  a  grin,  his  hands  clasped  behind 
him  ;  then,  striding  back,  he  kicked  the  logs  together 
with  his  heel  and  sent  a  lusty  blaze  leaping  up  the 
chimney. 

"  Of  course,"  said  he,  with  a  knowing  smile,  "  had 
I  been  a  young  Jesuit  priest,  I  had  been  safe  from  such 
aspersions." 

Manuel  winced  and  grew  serious.  After  a  brief 
silence  he  put  the  question  which  had  been  upon  the 
tip  of  his  tongue  since  he  stepped  across  the  threshold. 
He  spoke  quietly,  gazing  at  the  fire,  clenching  his  hands 
and  trying  to  control  his  voice. 

51 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

And  Antonio  broke  the  news  to  him  of  the  most 
extensive  practical  joke  that  he  had  yet  evolved.  Not 
until  the  Jesuit  fell  back  into  his  seat  with  his  face 
ashen  white  and  a  quivering  of  horror  upon  his  lips  and 
hands  did  his  brother  realize  that  the  news  would  be 
unwelcome.  Then,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  Antonio 
lost  his  impudence. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  you,  little  brother  of  my  soul,  indeed 
I  am  sorry.  I  would  not  have  wronged  you  for  worlds. 
It  is  partly  my  cursed  misunderstanding  of  you  that  has 
led  me  on.  I  thought  you  would  be  glad  for  us  to  be 
rid  of  her.  But  there !  <•  Que  vamos  a  hacer  ?  The 
girl  was  a  saucy  wanton.  Nay  !  don't  flinch  ;  you  must 
have  the  whole  truth  now  —  but  I  say  you  must.  In 
self-defence  I  tell  it  you.  And  the  truth  is  this.  It  was 
she  who  egged  me  on,  just  as  she  tempted  you,  she 
tempted  me,  lad,  and  — 

The  Jesuit  rose  in  his  wrath,  and  extending  his  right 
arm,  pointed  at  Antonio. 

"  Valiant  embodiment  of  guilelessness  !  Companion 
of  harlots,  is  thine  the  accusing  tongue  ?  Whosoever 
should  have  told  me  that  Antonio  had  innocence  to  lose 
or  guilt  to  learn,  I  had  struck  him  that  instant  upon  his 
lying  face  to  make  him  learn  to  blush." 

The  other  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  one  who  resigns 
his  flesh  to  well-deserved  chastisement.  But  his  eyes 
flashed  somewhat  and  his  cheeks  were  very  pale.  He 
beat  his  left  hand  with  the  gloves  that  he  held  in  his 
right,  and  slowly  made  reply. 

"That  may  be  —  as  it  may.  Look  at  the  matter 
dispassionately.  You  entered  the  Company  of  Jesus. 
You  intend  to  take  the  final  vows.  You  will  be  dead 
to  the  world,  you  are  almost  dead  to  it  already.  Had 
you  married  Teresa  and  then  died,  the  law  of  our  coun- 
try allows  me,  your  brother,  to  take  your  widow  to  wife. 

52 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Save  for  the  mere  formality  of  wedding  ceremonies,  and 
the  most  gratifying  fact  that  your  death  has  merely  been 
legal  instead  of  actual,  this  is  all  that  has  occurred.  I 
have  married  your  widow." 

"  You  have  not  even  married  her !     You  lie  !  " 

"  Enough  of  '  lies  ' !  You  are  father  to  her  firstborn, 
and  "  —  tossing  his  gloves  and  catching  them  again  — 
"  I  to  her  second.  You  have  yourself  to  blame.  You 
threw  me  into  company  with  a  very  comely  young 
woman,  you  caused  me  to  masquerade  as  her  lover, 
and  —  j  caracoles  !  what  would  you  ?  I  was  never  hard- 
hearted. What  a  fool  you  are,  to  be  sure !  Why,  bless 
your  soul,  I  had  just  as  good  cause  to  be  dying  of  jeal- 
ousy as  you,  more  so.  But  do  you  think  I  care  ?  Not 
I !  Not  that  much  !  " 

And  he  turned  his  empty  wine  bottle  upside  down 
and  drained  the  lees  upon  the  floor. 

"  What  are  you  saying  ? "  asked  Manuel,  with  his 
head  between  his  hands  and  his  eyes  very  bloodshot. 

"  Saying  ? " 

"  Aye  !     Why  should  you  be  jealous  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing  !  Save  that  she  has  treated  me  as  she 
treated  you,  chico  !  " 

"  What  ? " 

"  Yes !  And  for  a  common  fisherman,  too.  An 
animal,  look  you,  with  bare  brown  calves  and  naked 
feet.  A  mere  puller  in  of  nets  and  sorter  out  of  sprats 
and  herrings.  Before  I  had  left  Santa  Fe  a  month  they 
told  me  this  had  come  to  pass.  And  what  did  I  say  ? 
Turn  pale  and  drop  my  jaw  and  mutter  curses  ?  Nay  ! 
Leave  that  to  Jesuits!  I  just  turned  to  and  laughed." 

And  here  he  gave  his  listener  a  specimen  of  laughing 
that  made  the  very  rafters  vibrate  again,  and  another 
log  fell  over  in  the  fire. 

But  Manuel  looked  upon  him  in  horror.  He  was 

53 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

suffering  acutely.  His  pretty  dream  of  love  had 
brought  a  deadly  sting.  This  was  a  punishment  that 
he  never  had  foreseen. 

All  the  pangs  and  twinges  that  an  ordinary  lover 
would  feel  upon  hearing  of  his  darling's  seduction  by 
another  man  were  his.  The  merciless  lash  of  jealousy, 
of  ignominy,  of  mockery,  had  fallen  upon  the  young 
priest  and  left  him  quivering. 

Yet  if  foolish  Antonio  thought  to  console  him  by 
pointing  at  Teresa's  surrender  to  a  third  and  more 
humble  lover,  he  was  mistaken.  Indeed,  Antonio's 
effort  to  show  that  Teresa  had  promptings  which,  bred 
in  the  bone,  must  come  out  in  the  flesh,  not  only  failed 
to  exonerate  him  in  his  brother's  eyes,  but  drew  down 
upon  him  fresh  revilement. 

Manuel  paced  the  room  with  feverish  tread  and  spoke 
his  mind  right  freely.  But  his  voice  was  cracked,  and 
at  times  died  away  in  a  choking  sob,  then  grew  hoarse 
and  firm,  then  wavered  away  again. 

Yet  he  said  not  a  word  in  judgment  of  the  woman. 
In  the  first  place,  he  declared  that  her  fall  was  due  en- 
tirely to  himself,  for  had  he  not  abandoned  her  to  her 
fate  and  entrusted  her  to  a  profligate  ?  Then  he  went 
on  to  show  that  Teresa,  disgusted  with  his  desertion 
of  her,  had  surrendered  to  Antonio  in  pique,  and  that, 
disgusted,  in  turn,  with  Antonio's  desertion  of  her,  she 
had  surrendered  to  a  third.  And  in  this  he  partly 
spoke  the  truth. 

The  Jesuit's  bearing  of  his  first  and  lightest  cross 
was  not  without  dignity,  and  though  he  rapped  out 
many  bitter  terms  upon  Antonio,  he  measured  the^ 
same  amount  out  for  himself.  At  length  he  demanded 
what  provision  had  been  made  for  the  girl. 

"  Let  me  speak  plainly,"  said  Manuel ;  "  not  for  my 
sake,  but  for  hers.  Were  I  not  a  priest,  you  would  be 

54 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

many  thousands  of  golden  ounces  less  rich  than  you  are 
at  present.  I  demand,  as  my  right,  that  out  of  this  extra 
portion  you  should  make  her  a  full  allowance.  Give  her 
such  yearly  pension  as  will  keep  her  and  her  children  in 
comfort,  and  —  out  of  temptation." 

Antonio,  with  a  very  good  semblance  of  injured  inno- 
cence, turned  on  him  reproachfully. 

"That,"  said  he,  "is  already  provided  for,  and  hand- 
somely. Dost  thou  think  I  am  all  badness,  little  brother 
of  my  soul,  because  thou  art  so  godly  ?  " 

And  when  Manuel  seemed  satisfied  with  this  answer, 
Antonio  began  wondering  how  he  might  send  a  little 
money  to  Teresa  in  substantiation  of  his  word,  lest  he 
be  found  out.  At  length  he  fell  to  whistling  and 
balancing  the  empty  bottle  upon  his  forefinger,  and 
every  time  that  Manuel  turned  his  back  he  would  thrust 
his  tongue  into  his  cheek  and  wink  at  the  cheerful  blaze 
upon  the  hearth,  that  being  the  only  element  which 
seemed  to  him  sympathetic. 

After  a  while  the  Jesuit  grew  calmer,  and,  instead 
of  further  revilement,  bethought  him  of  a  passage 
which  asks,  "  Why  beholdest  thou  the  mote  that  is  in 
thy  brother's  eye,  but  perceivest  not  the  beam  that  is 
in  thine  own  eye  ? " 

It  was  in  the  cold  dawn  of  a  winter's  morning  that 
the  merchantman,  which  was  to  carry  away  the  last 
Jesuit,  drew  off  from  the  quay  side.  Manuel,  on  deck, 
waved  his  farewell  to  Antonio,  and  tried  to  smile. 
Then,  in  the  seclusion  of  his  cabin,  with  blocks  and 
tackle  still  rattling  overhead  and  a  deep  gloom  on  the 
water  outside  the  portholes,  the  exile  wept  bitter  tears. 

Manuel  had  never  learned  that  it  is  better  to  have 
loved  and  lost  than  never  to  have  loved  at  all,  nor, 
hearing  it,  would  he  have  believed. 

That  day  was  a  turning  point  in  his  career.  He 

55 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

sought  in  this,  as  he  sought  in  everything,  the  divine 
will  that  directed  the  divine  hand,  and  he  concluded 
that  it  was  God's  chastisement  for  his  levity  in  turning 
aside  from  following  Him. 

He  opened  a  Bible,  and  turning  over  the  pages  at 
hazard,  his  overstrung  mood  caused  him  to  wonder 
greatly  that  the  passages  which  first  caught  his  eye 
should  be  so  apposite.  The  first  text  that  stood  out  in 
bold  relief  was  that  concerning  Mammon,  and  he  saw 
that  by  the  substitution  of  womankind  for  Mammon, 
the  words  might  be  intended  for  himself.  "  No  servant 
can  serve  two  masters :  for  either  he  will  hate  the  one, 
and  love  the  other ;  or  else  he  will  hold  to  the  one, 
and  despise  the  other."  This,  to  his  keen  imagination, 
seemed  like  a  pleading  from  on  high,  a  reproach,  a  sor- 
rowful remonstrance. 

Then  some  quick  passion  overcast  the  face  of  this 
jealous  God,  for  Manuel's  hand  opened  the  Bible  a  hun- 
dred pages  further  on,  and  a  voice  thundered  at  him, 
"  The  wages  of  sin  is  death." 

Wretched  and  overwhelmed,  he  tremulously  closed 
the  book,  and  re-opened  it  among  the  earlier  chapters, 
in  hope  of  finding  them  less  wrathful.  Straightway 
there  stood  before  his  aching  eyes  this  passage :  "  Be- 
hold, I  will  raise  up  evil  against  thee  out  of  thine  own 
house,  and  I  will  take  thy  wives  before  thine  eyes,  and 
give  them  unto  thy  neighbour." 

He  read  the  words  in  grief  and  consternation.  The 
latter  portion  of  this  threat  had  been  consummated.  It 
therefore  held  his  attention,  and  in  bitterness  he  thought 
he  realized  that  the  very  God  was  speaking  to  him  from 
between  the  sacred  pages. 

As  for  the  former  portion,  as  yet  he  hardly  saw  that 
it  was  intended  for  him,  neither  did  he  comprehend  how 
it  might  be  fulfilled. 

56 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Even  his  reading  of  the  ten  or  twelve  verses  that  fol- 
lowed did  not  suggest  a  development  which  Manuel  had 
never  even  dreamt  of.  As  yet  he  had  not  felt  any  keen 
longing  to  look  upon  his  child.  The  love  was  there,  but 
it  was  hidden,  and  needed  confronting  with  the  sub- 
stance for  its  awakening. 

From  that  day  Manuel  convinced  himself  that  there 
was  only  one  kind  of  love  which  might  not  end  in  bitter- 
ness, the  love  of  his  God. 

Arrived  at  Antwerp,  he  passed  inland  to  the  home  of 
the  Jesuits  near  Ghent  (for  when  has  Belgium  spurned 
them  ?),  and  here  the  sensitive  plant  seemed  to  shrivel 
up  for  all  human  ties  and  instincts,  opening  out  its 
petals  only  in  the  silent  beams  of  that  unutterable  glory 
which  poured  down  into  his  chamber  when  others  were 
asleep. 

By  day,  he  would  often  linger  in  that  part  of  the  dark 
cloisters  nearest  to  the  chapel,  kneeling  at  a  point  where 
the  swelling  of  the  organ  and  the  voices  of  the  choir  at 
practice  were  softened  only  by  the  oaken  panels  that 
stood  between.  As  the  organ  rose,  so  swelled  the  heart 
of  Manuel  towards  his  God,  and  thus,  without  speaking, 
gazing  only  at  the  dark  vaulted  roof  above  and  clasping 
his  hands,  he  felt  so  carried  away  by  his  emotions  that 
surely,  he  thought,  his  soul  was  communing  with  the 
Most  High. 

But  such  devotion,  yearning  for  the  concrete,  must 
in  the  end  personify  the  Godhead.  God,  as  the  Awful 
Creator,  allowed  no  such  personification,  but  God  as 
the  Saviour  became  his  all-absorbing  theme,  and  he 
could  only  realize  these  deities  apart.  For  the  Father 
he  had  a  reverential  awe,  yet  he  felt  that  it  was  the 
Father  who  had  angrily  rebuked  him.  To  the  Saviour 
he  rendered  all  the  enthusiastic  homage  of  his  warm 
nature,  fearing  no  rebukes,  sure  of  His  sympathy, 

57 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

rejoicing  in  His  love.  There  were  nights  when  the 
young  priest  was  upon  his  knees  by  the  open  casement 
for  hours  together,  his  hands  folded  across  his  bosom, 
silent  and  entranced.  He  seemed  to  see  many  things, 
Jacob's  ladder,  the  Holy  Spirit  descending  in  the  form 
of  a  dove,  but  above  all  things  he  saw  one  central 
Figure,  with  radiant  face  and  outstretched  hands,  on 
the  Lake  of  Galilee,  stilling  the  tempest,  standing  in 
the  Garden  of  Gethsemane,  and  always  with  His  face 
towards  Manuel. 

Human  love,  he  told  himself,  had  gone  out  of  his  life 
for  ever.  It  was  insufficient. 

"  The  gusts  of  appetite,  the  clouds  of  care, 

And  storms  of  disappointment  all  o'erpast, 
Henceforth  no  earthly  hope  with  Heaven  shall  share 
This  heart  where  peace  serenely  shines  at  last." 

He  did  not,  however,  ask  himself  if  the  new  order  of 
things  would  always  be  sufficient.  He  assured  himself 
with  confidence  that  all  thought  of  human  ties  and 
affections  had  been  banished  from  his  heart,  that  he 
had  foresworn  them  as  was  bidden  to  the  rich  young 
man  who  came  asking  of  xthe  Saviour  what  he  must  do 
to  inherit  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven. 

He  appeared  to  become  whole  hearted  in  the  service 
of  the  Company,  and  devoted  his  great  intelligence  to 
their  welfare,  and,  after  a  few  more  years  had  passed, 
there  was  not  a  single  member  of  that  great  fraternity 
who  stood  higher  in  favour  than  did  Manuel.  He  had 
a  genius  for  expressing  himself  in  either  French  or 
Spanish,  and  he  even  wrote  well  in  Latin.  A  congratu- 
latory address,  a  farewell  testimonial,  a  record  of  some 
great  festival,  an  appeal  to  some  great  sovereign,  was 
never  so  polished,  so  sympathetic,  or  so  speaking,  as 
when  entrusted  to  Manuel.  In  time  his  convent 

58 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

became  famous  throughout  France  and  Belgium  for 
this  one  thing,  and  whenever  the  sister  colleges  had 
any  such  project  in  hand,  they  would  say,  "  Let  us 
sketch  out  the  main  idea,  and  send  it  on  to  Ghent  for 
elaboration."  And  they  would  send  the  raw  material 
to  Ghent.  After  a  week  or  two,  lo !  it  would  come 
back  made  into  a  marvel,  beautifully  written  on'  parch- 
ment, illuminated  at  every  initial  letter  with  gold,  azure, 
and  vermilion ;  but  this  was  the  least  remarkable  thing 
about  it.  The  delighted  monks  would  find  that  Manuel 
had  not  only  read  the  words  they  sent  him,  he  had  read 
much  more,  and  here  were  such  graceful  expressions, 
set  forth  so  appealingly  and  with  all  simplicity,  that 
they  wondered  how  these  thoughts  of  theirs  could  have 
been  conveyed. 

But  there  was  always  a  something  about  the  young 
Jesuit  which  might  best  be  described  as  a  failure  to 
confine  his  ideas  within  his  task.  True,  half  his  atten- 
tion to  this  daily  routine  was  worth  the  whole  attention 
of  many  others,  yet  there  is  some  dire  spirit  of  retribu- 
tion that  hovers  in  the  wake  of  such  slighted  duties. 
Duty,  it  would  seem,  calls  for  a  different  degree  of 
fulfilment  from  each  man,  according  to  his  powers. 

And  there  were  some  who  thought  that  Manuel's 
character  was  too  impressionable,  too  susceptible  to  hu- 
man influence,  for  his  attainment  of  that  high  ideal  of 
perfected  Jesuitism  which  must  be  wise  as  serpents  and 
harmless  as  doves.  This  they  perceived  by  instinct, 
without  knowing  one  jot  or  tittle  of  certain  things  which 
Manuel  had  never  confessed. 

By  a  special  dispensation  of  the  General,  he  was 
enabled  to  take  the  four  vows  at  an  earlier  age  than 
obtains  in  the  majority  of  cases. 


59 


CHAPTER  V 

"This  casket  threatens." 

The  Merchant  of  Venice. 

THE  village  of  Cinco  Caminos  lies  but  a  mile  from 
Santa  Fe.  Between  the  two  places  the  officials 
of  the  "consume"  have  their  shelter  and  their  scales. 
Being  outside  the  consume,  the  taverns  of  Cinco  Cami- 
nos can  sell  as  good  a  copita  of  aguardiente  for  one 
penny  as  could  be  purchased  in  Santa  Fe  for  twopence- 
halfpenny.  Other  commodities  are  also  cheaper,  though 
not  in  this  proportion,  and  thus  it  is  that  the  village, 
with  these  advantages  and  its  fishing  trade,  keeps  up  a 
chequered  existence. 

Sometimes  at  sunset  one  would  meet  a  string  of  ox- 
carts, with  the  beasts  goaded  into  a  clumsy  gallop  in 
order  to  pass  the  consumo  before  the  prohibited  hours 
of  darkness.  Those  carters  who  failed  to  get  weighed 
and  checked  in  time  were  forced  to  sit  down  alongside 
the  hut  until  the  morrow,  an  infliction  which  they  bore 
with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders  and  an  exchange  of  ciga- 
rettes with  others  equally  unfortunate. 

Having  passed  the  consumo  and  the  cross  road  leading 
down  to  the  sea  (the  most  squalid  road  of  the  village, 
inhabited  only  by  fisher  folk),  the  first  thing  one  noticed 
was  the  barber's  shop,  just  eastward  of  the  church,  with 
a  blue  and  white  striped  curtain  across  the  doorway,  and 
a  pole  from  which  dangled  a  miniature  shaving  dish  of 
brass. 

Painted  over  the  window  was  an  inscription  reading  — 

"  Here  leeches  are  sold  and  hair  is  cut." 
60 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Lizards  peeped  through  the  green  lattice  and  listened 
to  the  gossip  from  within.  Sometimes  they  were  un- 
savoury anecdotes  that  the  lizards  heard,  in  which  case 
they  would  change  colour  and  scuttle  away. 

Next  came  a  cobbled  space  with  some  twenty  acacias, 
five  a  side,  and  behind  it  the  little  yellow  church  of  San 
Pablo. 

Nearly  opposite  to  the  church  was  the  schoolmaster's 
house,  and  from  its  scorching  balconies  one  might  hear 
the  monotonous  buzz  of  the  children  of  an  afternoon 
repeating  scriptural  verses  after  their  weary  teacher. 

Sometimes  the  lesson  would  be  interrupted  by  the  mis- 
behaviour of  a  pupil,  or  the  voice  of  the  master  would 
be  heard  exclaiming,  "  Pepe,  wipe  thy  nose  and  try  to 
understand,"  or  "  Lolita,  take  thy  fist  out  of  thy  mouth, 
for  it  blocks  the  way  to  thy  little  comprehension." 

The  next  house  was  that  of  the  village  priest,  the 
ground  floor  being  tenanted  by  a  deaf  and  dumb  cobbler. 

Then  came  the  mayor's  house,  then  a  short  space 
along  the  dusty  road,  and,  last  of  all,  the  Fonda  del 
Trini. 

Overlooking  this  village  stands  the  Jesuit  College  of 
Santa  Fe,  nestling  halfway  up  the  hill.  From  its  de- 
serted terraces  one  may  gain  an  impressive  view  of  the 
fertile  vale  beneath. 

Amongst  other  moving  objects  in  the  landscape  is  a 
group  of  women  with  bundles  on  their  heads.  They  are 
returning  from  the  river  Guadalote  with  their  burdens 
of  washed-out  clothes,  haying  tramped  eight  miles  or 
more  along  dusty  roads  in  a  scorching  sun,  and  all  for 
sixpence  a  day !  To-night,  by  moonlight  or  some  other 
borrowed  light  —  for  they  cannot  afford  a  candle  of  their 
own — they  must  needs  be  ironing  the  clothes  that  the 
hungry  children  have  been  drying  on  the  beach  opposite 
the  village  all  day  long. 

61 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

To  the  left,  and  towards  the  sugar  factory,  descends 
a  pathway,  fenced  in  with  pita  or  aloe,  and  what  with 
the  deep  blue  of  the  sky  and  sea,  the  light  greenish  blue 
of  the  aloe,  the  red  ironstone  of  the  loftier  hills  behind, 
and  the  sugary  emerald  carpet  down  yonder  in  the  vega, 
there  are  contrasts  enough  to  make  the  dullest  eye  look 
brighter. 

Lifting  one's  glance  over  the  intermediate  hills  of  red 
ironstone  chequered  by  clumps  of  olive  trees  and  dwarf 
palms,  the  ridge  of  higher  mountains,  blue  as  the  bloom 
of  a  plum,  rises  in  the  far  distance,  gloomy,  silent,  im- 
penetrable, its  summit  capped  with  snow. 

As  one  wheels  suddenly  round  to  look  at  these  moun- 
tains, they  seem  to  smile  grimly  as  though  they  would 
say  :  "What!  At  last  you  have  noticed  us  !  We  could 
have  waited  for  centuries  !  " 

Standing  here,  one  becomes  conscious  of  the  perfume 
of  orange  blossom.  Whence  does  it  come  ?  Look  far 
down  into  the  vega.  Hard  by  the  bridge  across  the 
Guadalote  stands  a  finca  surrounded  by  palm  trees  and 
orchards.  So  clear  is  the  trembling  air,  one  may  see 
that  the  trees  are  covered  with  snow-white  bloom. 

The  scent  of  orange  blossoms  is  borne  to  one  on  the 
wind  over  a  distance  of  fully  two  miles,  and  the  Moor 
has  wondered  that  this  odour  should  carry  farther  than 
any  other,  and  has  used  it  to  symbolize  the  presence  of 
his  love. 

This  is  the  vale  of  Santa  Fe,  and  those  who  look 
upon  it  from  the  hilltop  can  only  cast  themselves  upon 
the  ground  to  dream,  and  ever  go  on  dreaming,  with 
the  chirp  of  the  cigarron,  the  far-off  murmur  along  the 
beach,  the  tearing  of  weeds  by  the  goats  that  graze  be- 
neath, and  the  fitful  bursting  into  song  of  a  muleteer 
down  yonder  on  the  king's  highway,  heard  yet  un- 
heard. All  blends  itself,  Life  is  whispering  her  love 

62 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

dream,  Sleep,  all  smiling,  pushes  her  aside  for  a  brief 
moment,  stoops  down  and  kisses  the  idler,  folding  him 
in  her  arms. 

******** 

On  a  certain  evening,  some  three  or  four  years  later 
than  the  visit  of  Antonio  to  Manuel,  the  villagers  of 
Cinco  Caminos  who  chanced  to  be  standing  near  the 
little  parish  church  of  San  Pablo,  which  building  is 
the  personification  of  plainness  and  poverty,  bedaubed 
with  yellow  ochre  and  cracked  in  every  wall,  were  sur- 
prised by  the  sudden  clamouring  of  a  fisherman  at  the 
door  of  the  priest's  cottage  just  in  front  of  them. 
Shortly  after  admitting  this  visitor  the  good  priest 
came  hurrying  out,  crossed  over  to  the  miserable 
barn-like  church,  and  was  followed  by  an  acolyte, 
whom  the  fisherman  had  also  summoned  from  lower 
down  the  village. 

These  ominous  signs  drew  together  some  score  of 
loiterers,  who  wagged  their  heads  to  one  another  as  if 
they  knew  what  they  portended. 

Presently  there  arose  the  tinkling  of  a  little  bell, 
the  men  whipped  off  their  caps,  and  all  bystanders, 
young  and  old,  sank  upon  their  knees  in  the  dusty 
road,  crying,  "  His  Majesty !  His  Majesty  !  " 

A  stranger  looking  around  him  would  have  seen  no 
king  whatever,  but  he  would  have  noticed  that  the 
priest  and  acolyte,  attended  by  a  younger  boy,  all 
three  in  robes,  came  sweeping  out  of  the  church  door 
and  past  the  dusty  acacias,  into  the  road  beyond. 

The  acolyte  bore  a  tiny  custodia  of  silver,  shaped 
like  a  temple,  in  which  was  a  consecrated  wafer.  The 
boy  swung  incense. 

They  bent  their  steps  towards  a  wretched  little 
cottage  at  the  bottom  of  the  village  street  which  led 
down  to  the  sea. 

63 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

This  street  was  filthy  with  offal  of  every  kind,  but 
principally  with  the  guts  and  heads  of  fish.  The  dust 
was  thickly  interspersed  with  herring  bones  and  scales, 
from  which  the  fierce  sunshine  evoked  a  noisome 
stench,  and  occasionally  a  slatternly  wife,  with  tucked- 
up  petticoat  and  bare  feet  and  calves,  would  poke  her 
head  of  matted  hair  outside  and  shoot  another  bucket- 
ful to  keep  the  stink  from  perishing. 

Little  brown-skinned  naked  children  rolled  in  the 
dust  outside  the  cottage  doors,  pelted  the  fowl,  rode 
on  the  pigs,  and  cried  when  anything  touched  them 
on  their  sores,  of  which  indeed  they  had  a  goodly 
harvest. 

Arrived  at  the  lowest  cottage  in  the  street,  the 
priest  first  entered  alone,  the  others  standing  upon  the 
threshold. 

On  a  wretched  wooden  bench  there  was  a  straw 
mattress,  and  upon  the  mattress  Teresa  lay  dying. 

Two  little  urchins  of  boys,  whimpering  very  hard, 
were  removed  by  the  same  fisherman  who  had  come 
to  summon  the  priest,  and,  having  received  a  hearty 
cuff  apiece,  were  shot,  like  any  other  rubbish,  out  into 
the  street,  where  they  straightway  fell  upon  their 
dirty  little  knees,  in  imitation  of  the  people  round  the 
threshold.  The  elder  wiped  his  nose  with  his  cap,  the 
younger,  having  no  cap,  performed  this  operation  with 
his  arm,  and  both  of  them  went  on  blubbering  without 
further  interference. 

Meanwhile,  inside  the  cottage,  the  priest  was  bending 
his  head  down  over  the  dying  woman  and  listening  to 
her  last  confession.  Fever  had  wasted  her  cheeks  and 
limbs,  and  her  eyes  appeared  large  in  their  sockets. 
Her  face  was  overspread  with  the  ghastly  pallor  of 
death. 

After  a  brief  confession,  put  forth  with  many  pauses 

64 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

and  gaspings,  with  clutching  at  the  mattress  and  with 
staring  eyes,  she  became  insensible.  The  priest  was 
just  about  to  beckon  to  the  acolyte  when  the  woman 
opened  her  eyes,  plucked  him  feverishly  by  the  robe, 
and  bade  him  bend  down  closer,  whereupon  she  said  — 

"  My  son! " 

"  Which  son  ?  "  asked  the  priest. 

"  The  elder  one." 

"What  is  your  wish,  my  daughter  ? " 

"When  he  reaches  an  age  of  discretion  —  if  he  can 
ever  read  —  bend  closer !  " 

The  priest  lowered  his  ear  until  it  almost  grazed  the 
lips  of  the  dying  woman,  whose  glassy  eyes  stared 
anxiously  towards  the  door,  then  focussed  themselves 
upon  the  far  distance  and  gazed  through  the  narrow 
embrasure,  with  two  iron  cross  bars,  which  served  as 
a  window. 

After  a  moment's  pause,  Teresa  collected  what  re- 
mained of  her  ebbing  senses,  and  whispered  — 

"  In  the  orchard  beside  the  well  where  I  used  to  wash 
the  clothes  —  for  the  alcalde  —  under  the  stones  !  " 

These  words,  not  bearing  any  obvious  sequel,  the 
priest  continued  listening,  though  for  a  long  spell  he 
heard  nothing  but  the  ticking  of  his  own  watch,  the 
laboured  breathing  of  the  sick  woman,  and  the  whim- 
pering of  the  children  outside.  Presently  Teresa  con- 
tinued — 

"One  stone,  a  very  big  one  —  under  it  a  casket  — 
in  it  is  something  —  a  great  secret  in  writing  —  that 
may  be  worth  a  fortune  —  when  —  he  —  is  —  " 

Here  she  broke  off  again  and  stared  vacantly. 

"  When  he  is  a  man,  eh  ? "  completed  the  priest, 
raising  his  head  and  regarding  her. 

The  woman  turned  her  awful  eyes  upon  him  for  a 
moment;  then,  with  one  last  effort,  sat  up  and  raised 

F  65 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

a  piercing  scream  which  was  audible  right  down  along 
the  sea  shore,  and  was  answered  by  a  yell  from  the 
kneeling  children  outside,  and  a  tremulous  "  j  Ay !  " 
from  the  fisher  folk  round  the  doorstep. 

Throwing  up  her  arms,  Teresa  fell  back  insensible, 
and  never  uttered  another  sound. 

The  priest  beckoned  to  the  acolyte,  who  brought  in 
the  host,  which  shortly  was  administered. 

Then,  after  a  brief  prayer,  the  acolyte  stepped  for- 
ward, and,  looking  into  the  woman's  mouth  to  see  if 
the  consecrated  wafer  had  been  swallowed,  asked  in 
a  loud  voice,  according  to  ancient  custom,  "  Has  His 
Majesty  passed  ? " 

The  wafer  having  passed  and  the  ceremony  being 
concluded,  the  priest  went  out. 

Shortly  afterwards  the  death  rattle  was  heard  in 
Teresa's  throat,  and  within  twenty-four  hours  the 
parish  coffin  was  filled  with  another  ghastly  burden, 
and  this  burden  having  been  cast  into  a  shallow  grave 
some  eight,  inches  below  the  surface,  the  coffin  was 
removed  by  night  and  reserved  for  the  next  occasion. 

And  in  pronouncing  the  burial  service  the  good  priest 
smoked  a  cigarette,  not  from  any  feeling  that  was  cal- 
lous or  irreverent,  but  simply  because  the  graves  were 
all  of  them  very  shallow,  the  wall  niches  badly  closed, 
and  the  sun  exceeding  hot. 

When  the  priest  was  seated  at  his  frugal  meal  that 
evening  by  moonlight  —  for  the  moon  was  very  full  and 
his  purse  was  very  empty  —  he  recollected  that  this  poor 
woman  had  caused  no  little  sensation  a  few  years  ago, 
when  she  was  yet  in  better  circumstances  and  clad  in 
silk  and  satin. 

It  is,  or  used  to  be,  a  common  enough  thing  in  those 
parts  for  women  to  offer  up  their  firstborn  upon  the 
altar.  The  child  was  not  of  course  sacrificed,  but  merely 

66 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

dedicated,  the  Christ  being  prayed  to  accept  him  living 
or  dead.  In  this  might  be  seen  a  curious  grafting  of 
popular  religion  or  superstition  upon  the  orthodox  faith. 
The  priests  opposed  this  act  in  many  cases  and  kept 
watch  against  it. 

Once,  late  at  night,  Teresa,  having  bribed  the  verger, 
was  found  holding  on  to  the  great  altar  in  the  Cathedral 
of  Santa  Fe,  her  face  transfigured,  her  eyes  riveted  upon 
the  Saviour's  face,  which  was  feebly  lighted  by  two  can- 
dles upon  the  reading  desk. 

The  child  was  seated  upon  the  altar,  his  wondering 
eyes  staring  into  the  pall  of  darkness  around  him. 

The  Saviour  and  the  woman  seemed  to  be  regarding 
each  other  intently,  and  those  who  happened  upon  this 
midnight  picture  declared  that  the  lips  of  the  image  had 
moved  as  if  in  answer  to  the  suppliant's  dedication. 

Who  can  say  what  feelings  swayed  the  poor  girl, 
what  words  she  spoke,  or  whether  her  offer  would  be 
accepted  ? 

Yet  the  incident  goes  to  prove  that  Teresa  was  not 
altogether  bad,  nor  as  reckless  as  Antonio  had  painted 
her. 


67 


CHAPTER  VI 

"  What  hidest  thou  in  thy  treasure  caves  and  cells, 
Thou  hollow  sounding  and  mysterious  main  ? 
Pale  glistening  pearls,  and  rainbow-coloured  shells, 
Bright  things  which  gleam  unrecked  of  and  in  vain." 

F.  D.  HEMANS. 

THE  two  boys  who  were  cast  out  from  the  death- 
chamber   of   Teresa  were   her   children.     When 
they  had  cried  their  fill,  they  fell  asleep,  and  on  the 
morrow  they  woke  up  hungry. 

The  fisherman  who  had  been  angry  at  their  whimper- 
ing was  not  wilfully  cruel  to  them.  Indeed,  consider- 
ing the  hardness  of  his  life,  his  scanty  earnings,  and 
his  long  hours  of  labouring  at  the  nets,  he  was  rather 
a  tolerant  foster-father.  It  must  be  remembered  that 
the  law  could  not  oblige  him  to  shelter  them  at  all, 
though  maybe  the  tribunal  of  village  opinion,  added 
to  the  influence  of  the  priest,  counted  for  much  in 
his  consenting  to  give  them  shelter.  As  time  went 
on  the  children  became  more  useful. 

They  would  scour  the  dirty  floor  and  boil  the  earthen 
pipkin,  fetch  water  from  the  village  fountain  in  the 
cobbled  square  beneath  the  acacias,  and  they  even 
made  shift  to  cook  the  wretched  meals,  though  this 
required  but  little  knowledge.  For  who  cannot  boil 
chickpeas  and  fry  sprats  upon  a  skewer  ?  A  big  haul 
of  fish  would  sometimes  mean  a  lump  of  bacon  fat  to 
boil  with  the  chickpeas  and  cabbage,  though  more 
often  it  melted  into  spirituous  vapour,  and  left  not  a 
rack  behind. 

68 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

When  they  grew  older  the  boys  were  of  greater 
service  at  the  fishing  than  in  the  house,  and  the  fisher- 
man, taking  unto  himself  a  new  lady-love,  in  whose 
sight  they  found  little  favour,  their  lot  in  life  was  even 
harder  than  before. 

Their  foster-father  did  not  quite  forget  them.  He 
was  the  Notary  (or  Escribano)  of  his  boat,  and  he 
arranged  with  the  proprietor  (or  Patron)  that  the  elder 
of  the  two  should  assist  the  carrier  with  his  donkeys 
in  carrying  fish  to  market.  This  lad  was  called  El 
Chopo,  and  he  soon  learned  to  manage  his  rat-tailed 
donkey,  waiting  on  the  beach  with  fishy  panniers  to 
receive  his  portion  of  the  incoming  netful ;  then,  loaded 
with  sprats  still  wriggling,  off  he  would  gallop  to  the 
old  Moorish  market-place  of  Santa  Fe.  The  younger 
child  was  nicknamed  El  Pelao,  for  he  had  lost  a  patch 
of  hair  on  one  side  of  his  head.  It  was  his  business, 
when  the  net,  with  its  leaping,  quivering  mass  of  sprats 
was  pulled  inshore,  to  pounce  upon  the  host  of  little  fish 
that  wriggled  through  the  meshes,  and  to  gather  them 
in  a  basket  for  washing  in  the  surf  and  placing  in  the 
panniers,  and  in  this-  way  many  pounds  of  fish  were 
recovered  every  time  the  net  came  shivering  in.  When 
the  sea  yielded  fat  harvests  the  lads  had  enough  to  eat, 
and  sometimes  the  Patron  would  even  fling  them  a 
copper  each  as  he  stood  at  the  door  of  his  hut  with 
well-lined  belly  and  smoking  a  cigarette,  his  face  all 
flushed  with  aguardiente.  But  in  winter,  when  fish 
was  scarce  and  the  sea  was  rough,  they  went  hungry, 
at  times  for  days  together,  and  were  driven  to  rum- 
maging in  the  garbage.  If  they  complained,  the 
fishermen  would  fling  a  stone  at  them.  At  such 
times,  when  El  Chopo,  the  elder,  found  Pelao  whim- 
pering, he  would  feel  so  troubled  for  his  brother  as  to 
forget  his  own  pangs,  and  would  yield  him  whatever 

69 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

wretched  morsel  he  could  find.  Summer-time  was  not 
so  bad,  for  if  fish  were  not  forthcoming,  there  were 
plenty  of  orchards  to  be  robbed,  ears  of  maize  to  pluck 
and  boil,  and  even  prickly  pears. 

Having  mentioned  that  the  boys'  foster-father  was 
a  Notary,  I  may  have  given  you  the  impression  that 
he  was  learned.  On  the  contrary,  he  could  not  read 
or  write.  What  is  more,  he  could  not  tell  the  time, 
and  had  you  asked  him,  "What  o'clock  is  it?"  he 
would  have  squinted  at  the  sun  and  said,  perhaps, 
"three  sticks!"  meaning  that  the  sun  was  three 
masts  high  in  the  heavens,  looking  from  the  prow  of 
a  falucha  with  the  sun  above  the  poop. 

Brown-faced,  brown-legged,  with  breeches  reaching 
only  to  the  knees  and  a  band  of  white  calico  extending 
the  breeches  some  three  or  four  inches  lower,  this  swarthy 
toiler  of  the  deep  could  not  tell  B  from  a  bull's  foot. 

He  wore  a  broad-brimmed  hat  with  a  round  peaked 
crown,  and,  whenever  the  boat  was  painted,  the  hats  of 
the  crew  were  painted  also.  In  fact,  you  might  know 
what  boat  a  man  belonged  to  by  the  colour  of  his  hat. 

Not  only  did  each  boat  carry  a  Notary,  but  it  was 
served,  in  addition,  by  several  chiefs  of  departments, 
whose  offices  bore  titles  in  a  patois  of  Arabic-Andaluz, 
the  more  important1  being  the  chief  skipper  (Mandaor), 
the  prowman  (Prov6),  the  sounder  (Calaor),  the  helms- 
man (Pope"),  the  block  greaser  and  assistant  to  the 
skipper  (Amocae),  the  netsman  (Alargaor),  who  squats 
over  the  rolled-up  net,  pulling  it  into  the  boat  or  paying 
it  out,  and  a  few  Porrinos  (assistants  of  general  art); 
that  is  to  say,  in  plain  English,  handy  men. 

I  must  not   neglect  the  complement  ashore,  for  it 

1  But  the  following  are  recognized  officials  also :  El  Esparde,  El  Espa- 
chapanda,  El  Cruye,  El  Mediane,  El  Sotamediane,  El  Cuartelero,  El 
Arrael,  El  Vendeor,  and  La  Posadtra. 

70 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

included  El  Chopo  and  Pelao,  and  was  headed  by  the 
second  skipper  (Segundo  Mandaor).  Here  also  was 
the  carrier  (Malagie)  waiting  with  his  donkeys  to  bear 
the  fish  to  market,  and  his  assistant,  El  Chopo,  gener- 
ally stood  beside  him. 

To  take  them  on  one  of  many  mornings,  Pelao  is 
squatting  beside  the  net  mender  (Sotarrai),  and  before 
them  stands  the  swabber  (Corulle).  The  two  basket 
captains  (Patrones  de  Canasta),  are  helping  the  Porri- 
nos,  flotsam  and  jetsam  of  Santa  Fe,  who  enter  into 
no  formal  bond  or  contract  with  the  proprietor,  but 
have  a  right,  like  all  comers,  to  pull  on  the  ropes  and 
take  their  miserable  share  of  the  results. 

On  the  top  of  the  shingly  bank  sits  El  Chopo  beside 
his  donkey,  the  donkey  lying  down,  the  lad's  brown 
arm  thrown  round  his  neck,  the  sun  sweltering  down 
on  both  of  them.  He  is  looking  far  out  to  sea,  far 
beyond  the  distant  faluchas  and  goatskins,  far  beyond 
the  horizon.  Beside  him  squat  the  coilers  (Gard6nes), 
whose  duty  it  is  to  coil  the  ropes  and  nets  up  neatly 
as  the  Porrinos  pull  them  in  towards  the  top  of  the 
bank.  They  have  just  finished  stowing  the  net  away 
at  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  120  fathoms  of  net  and 
1600  fathoms  of  rope. 

The  crew  and  the  Porrinos  put  their  shoulder  to  the 
boat,  which  is  prowed  like  a  gondola,  and  has  an  eye 
painted  on  either  bow.  Without  this  eye  no  fisher- 
man would  put  off  from  shore,  for  the  boat  must  be 
allowed  to  see,  and  it  has  been  so  painted  ever  since 
the  time  of  the  Phoenicians. 

The  boat  now  slides  along  greasy  baulks  of  timber 
and  flops  into  the  water,  rocking  and  rolling  as  though 
it  were  excited.  Along  the  bows  are  hanging  inflated 
goatskins,  to  be  used  as  net  buoys.  The  bare-legged 
crew  paddle  in  after  the  boat  and  jump  aboard. 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

The  Sounder  now  hands  one  end  of  the  rope  to  the 
Porrinos  ashore,  then  they  push  off. 

The  proprietor,  a  fat,  clean-shaven  man  with  coarse 
lips,  clothed  like  the  fishermen,  but  somewhat  more 
newly,  and  with  bare  legs  and  arms  like  theirs,  returns 
to  his  hut  and  aguardiente. 

This  hut  is  made  of  old  boxes,  canes,  and  canvas. 
By  the  door  flourish  one  or  two  banana  trees ;  in 
their  shadow  is  lying  a  donkey  —  the  whole,  a  pretty 
picture. 

To  return  to  the  boat,  however,  the  Prowman  now 
stands  in  the  prow,  and  hands  a  goatskin  to  the  Sounder 
at  every  320  fathoms,  watching  the  rope  and  the  cork 
floats  that  are  spaced  in  between  the  goatskins. 

The  Sounder  peers  into  the  water,  estimates  the  dis- 
tance of  the  bottom,  and  points  out  the  direction  of  the 
tide,  in  which  matters  he  is  a  specialist. 

The  net  must  be  drifted  with  the  tide,  else  it  would 
roll  over  and  over,  or  even  lie  in  zigzags.  If  the  watch- 
ful skipper  suspects  that  the  net  is  badly  disposed,  he 
waves  his  hat,  and  the  Porrinos  ashore  begin  to  pull, 
which  tightens  the  rope  and  straightens  out  the  net. 

When  first  the  net  is  cast  into  the  water,  these  honest 
fishermen  all  take  off  their  caps,  and  bowing  their  black 
heads,  cry  in  chorus,  "  May  it  please  Our  Lady  La 
Vfrgen  del  Carmen  that  we  kill  a  great  multitude  of 
fish." 

This,  I  admit,  is  very  pretty.  Yet,  alas !  if  you 
heard  what  they  say  (which  God  forbid!)  whenever  the 
net  comes  empty ! 

El  Chopo,  when  he  saw  the  heads  all  bowed  in  prayer 
out  yonder  in  the  boat,  would  sweep  off  his  own  dirty 
cap,  and  make  shift  to  pray  as  best  he  could.  Yet  when 
the  nets  came  in  badly  filled,  or  empty,  he  never  joined 
in  the  blasphemous  outcry  of  his  elders,  and  always 

72 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

looked  surprised  at  them.  It  seemed  to  him  illogical. 
If  it  be  a  favour  on  the  part  of  the  Vi'rgen  del  Carmen 
to  put  fish  into  the  net,  surely,  thought  he,  it  cannot  be 
an  injury  on  her  part  to  abstain  from  this  good  deed. 
In  this,  as  in  many  things,  he  differed  from  those  around 
him. 

After  making  a  long  circuit  the  vessel  heads  for  the 
shore,  and,  on  arrival,  the  sea  being  calm,  the  crew 
desert  her,  throwing  down  anchor  and  leaping  ashore 
with  the  other  end  of  the  rope.  You  must  now  imagine 
the  net  disposed  in  the  form  of  a  letter  U,  1600  fathoms 
long.  The  two  ends  of  this  letter  U  are  being  hauled 
ashore  by  two  separate  groups  of  Porrinos,  with  one  or 
two  hundred  yards  of  shingle  in  between  them. 

Each  Porrino  has  a  six-foot  length  of  grass  cord, 
with  a  light  weight  at  the  end.  He  slings  the  weighted 
end  across  the  net  rope  with  such  dexterity  that  the 
cord  tightens  on  itself.  Turning  his  back  to  the  sea, 
he  pulls  this  cord  over  his  shoulder  and  leans  at  the 
angle  of  greatest  effect,  sometimes  forty-five  degrees, 
holding  on  to  the  end  with  both  hands  upon  his  chest, 
and  burying  his  toes  in  the  shingle  to  gain  good  hold. 

"  Come,  thou  !  "  shouts  the  foremost  Porrino  to  Pelao, 
and  Pelao  picks  up  a  cord  and  comes  lazily  forward  to 
help.  "  Come,  thou ! "  shouts  another  to  El  Chopo. 
But  the  lad  is  buried  in  his  reflections,  and  does  not 
hear. 

At  first  the  rope  scarcely  seems  to  budge,  and  these 
two  groups  of  patient  men,  staring  hard  at  the  pebbles, 
silent,  and  red  in  the  neck,  have  no  more  visible  effect 
than  so  many  flies.  Gradually,  however,  the  net  begins 
to  move,  and  slowly  the  men  plod  up  the  bank  to  where 
the  coilers  are  beginning  to  coil  the  rope,  each  making 
use  of  the  foothold  that  the  others  have  left  behind. 

As  time  goes  on  the  rope  comes  in  faster,  until  at 

73 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

length  it  is  only  a  five  minutes'  journey  for  each  Por- 
rino,  from  the  time  when  he  paddles  in  the  water's  edge 
and  hitches  on  his  cord,  to  the  moment  when  he  throws 
it  off,  just  as  he  reaches  the  coiler,  and  runs  back  down 
the  incline,  twirling  his  cord  and  shouting,  "  j  Ya  viene  ! 
—  Already  it  comes  !  " 

Look  seawards. 

The  Mediterranean  is  calm  to-day  —  sometimes  it  is 
smooth  as  glass  —  and  you  can  see  a  few  large  black 
dots,  like  flies  on  a  mirror,  lying  in  a  curve  and  moving 
slowly  landwards.  These  are  the  goatskins.  In  be- 
tween them  are  smaller  dots.  These  are  the  corks. 

Patiently  the  two  bands  of  haulers  toil  up  the  bank  ; 
now  a  Porrino  runs  seawards,  shading  his  eyes  to  see  if 
the  fish  are  jumping,  hitches  on  his  cord,  and  hides  his 
face.  In  time  the  rope  comes  in  yet  quicker ;  the 
Porrinos  commence  to  sing. 

At  this  sound  the  Skipper,  the  Prowman,  the  Sounder, 
and  the  Helmsman  come  out  of  the  little  hut  by  the 
banana  trees,  wiping  their  mouths  with  their  salt  and 
hairy  brown  arms.  Some  go  to  one  end  of  the  rope, 
some  to  the  other. 

The  Porrinos  are  working  still  faster;  the  journey  is 
reduced  to  three  minutes ;  each  shouts  "  j  Ya  viene  ! 
j  Ya  viene ! "  as  he  splashes  into  the  water  and  begins 
to  haul ;  the  others  grunt  "  j  Ya  viene ! "  with  what 
breath  they  have  to  spare,  and  look  down  at  the  pebbles 
with  purple  faces. 

Now  expectation  is  written  on  the  faces  of  the  boat's 
crew,  who  stand  ankle  deep  in  the  water  and  shade  their 
eyes,  looking  out  at  the  sun-speckled  sea. 

At  last ! 

The  first  few  meshes  of  the  net  begin  to  come  in. 

"  j  Ya  viene  !    j  Ya  viene  !  " 

The  Sounder  and  Prowman  take  hold  and  dexter- 

74 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

ously  sling  the  net  round  and  round  the  rope,  pulling 
off  the  jellyfish  and  starfish. 

Already  several  goatskins  have  been  unhitched  and 
cast  ashore.  The  U  has  grown  smaller  and  much  nar- 
rower. It  is  now  more  like  a  hairpin.  The  two  groups 
of  haulers  are  only  a  few  yards  apart. 
Faster  and  faster  comes  in  the  net. 
Out  comes  the  fat  Patron  from  his  hut,  strolls  down 
the  beach  with  his  hands  behind  his  back,  then  rests 
them  on  his  hips  as  he  stands  beside  the  ropes  intent 
upon  the  narrowing  space  enclosed  between  the  corks. 
The  Porrinos'  song  grows  louder.  This  is  what  they 
sing  — 

"  For  the  Prowman  takes  the  tunny  fish, 

And  the  Sounder  takes  the  bream ; 
The  Notary  fills  his  pockets  full, 

The  Skipper  he  takes  the  cream. 
When  every  one  of  the  others 

Hath  something  got  for  his  cheek, 
The  Porrino  takes  ten  cents  away, 
And  a  hole  torn  out  of  his  breek. 
(Extra  loud)  And  a  hole  torn  out  of  his  breek."  1 

"  Ah,"  says  the  Patron,  with  his  sulky  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  corks,  "  and  to-day  'tis  only  the  last  ye'll  get,  I'm 
thinking !  " 

Whereupon  he  lets  loose  a  frightful  oath  at  the  expense 
of  Our  Lady  La  Vi'rgen  del  Carmen. 

"  Nay,"  says  the  Skipper,  as  two  or  three  seagulls 
swoop  down  towards  the  net,  squealing  like  ungreased 
pulley  blocks,  "yonder  come  the  birds." 

1  Another  version  runs  — 

"  El  Mandaor  se  lleva  los  pulpos 
El  Prove  los  calamares  y  pijotas 
Y  los  proves  porrinos  de  tierra 
Sacan  la  chaqueta  rota. 
Sacan  la  chaqueta  rota-a-a-a." 

75 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  Aye !  "  returns  the  Patr6n  after  a  pause,  during 
which  the  enclosure  grows  rapidly  smaller,  and  corks 
and  nets  fly  landward  at  a  running  pace.  "You  are 
right !  Blessed  be  Our  Lady  La  Vi'rgen  del  Carmen  !  " 

"  Blessings  on  her !  "  echoed  the  Porrinos. 

Within  three  minutes  the  enclosed  strip  of  water  is 
lashed  by  a  myriad  of  panic-stricken  fish,  and  looks  like 
boiling  quicksilver.  The  seagulls  fly  screaming  over  the 
agitated  surface.  Ever  and  anon  some  artful  card  leaps 
right  over  the  rope  into  the  expanse  beyond,  but  many 
are  caught  in  the  act  by  the  eager  seagulls,  who  heed 
the  fishermen  as  little  as  the  fishermen  heed  them. 

"  i  Viva  La  Vfrgen  del  Carmen  !    May  she  be  blessed  !  " 

"  j  Ole" !     Hurrah  for  the  little  lass  !  " 

Some  dozen  fishermen,  tucking  their  short  breeches 
over  their  thighs  and  yelling  with  excitement,  wade  into 
the  margin,  and,  seizing  the  fine  meshes  of  the  Copo, 
pull  it  high  and  dry,  hoarse  with  triumph,  for  the  haul 
is  excellent  and  will  load  three  or  four  donkeys. 

The  carrier  comes  forward,  pulling  his  donkey, 
motions  to  El  Chopo,  who  goes  to  fetch  the  third  don- 
key from  beside  the  hut,  and  comes  forward  leading  a 
donkey  by  each  hand.  A  crowd  of  villagers  has  col- 
lected round  the  net,  but  the  fluttering  of  the  fish  is 
audible  above  their  chatter,  and  a  spray  of  silver  scales 
goes  flying  like  chaff  from  every  mesh  and  opening. 

Most  of  the  fish  are  diminutive,  and  wriggle  their 
lives  away  in  a  rapid  unceasing  vibration,  but  there  are 
one  or  two  larger  fish  which  leap  now  and  then  from 
beneath  the  white  mass  of  sprats,  like  a  sudden  eruption 
of  some  silvery  volcano. 

Lastly,  there  are  the  cuttlefish  and  jellyfish,  which 
betray  no  emotion  whatever. 

The  Prowman  stands  in  the  middle  of  the  net  when 
opened  and  picks  up  basketfuls  of  fish,  handing  them 

76 


to  the  Basket  Captains  to  bestow  them  in  the  donkey 
panniers. 

The  Notary  keeps  an  eye  upon  every  load,  and 
notches  it  on  a  stick. 

One  or  two  of  the  fish,  curiously  marked,  are  rejected 
by  the  Prowman,  who  flings  them  out  to  sea  at  arm's 
length  for  being  unlucky,  which  needs  must  hurt  their 
feelings. 

El  Chopo,  having  his  panniers  both  full,  jumps  upon 
his  donkey,  straddle-legged  behind  the  panniers,  shouts 
"  j  Arre  !  "  and  off  he  goes  to  market. 

Pelao  is  helping  to  gather  in  the  stragglers. 

All  the  donkeys  having  gone  off,  and  the  net  being 
empty,  the  coilers  take  it  in  hand  and  the  fishermen 
gather  round  the  Notary. 

The  ancient  method  of  "  cut  and  come  again,"  whereby 
each  man  obtains  his  share,  is  beyond  the  comprehen- 
sion of  our  most  gifted  mathematicians.  The  only  thing 
that  appears  clear  on  the  face  of  it  is  that  the  Porrinos 
come  off  worst  of  all,  and  it  has  been  calculated  that  if 
there  are  thirty  hands  all  told,  and  the  fish  only  sell  for 
thirty-six  reals  — 

"  The  Porrino  takes  ten  cents  away, 
And  a  hole  torn  out  of  his  breek." 

Ten  cents  are  less  than  a  penny,  and  the  hole  is  for 
being  saucy  ! 

Yet  these  brown-skinned  ragamuffins  knew  but  little 
of  discontent,  and  often,  when  hungriest,  would  sing  a 
loud  song  to  draw  the  air  out  of  their  poor  empty  bellies. 

Not  so  El  Chopo.  He  was  not  contented  with  the 
present,  yet  he  was  hopeful  for  the  future,  with  the 
sanguineness  of  childhood.  He  was  quiet  and  uncom- 
plaining, it  is  true,  but  he  felt  that  life  held  something 
better  for  him  than  this.  Around  him  he  saw  a  lovely 

77 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

and  rejoicing  Nature,  yet  his  lot  was  very  miserable. 
Why  the  contrast  ? 

Sometimes  he  spoke  to  the  village  priest,  who,  when 
he  could  spare  him  time,  told  him  that  the  only  way  to 
climb  the  ladder  was  to  be  content  and  humble.  And 
the  priest,  going  home  to  his  wretched  bare  room,  would 
sigh  and  shake  his  head  at  fickle  fortune,  thinking  of 
the  Bishop  and  his  palace  in  Santa  Fe,  or  even  the  Cura 
of  San  Lorenzo,  who  lived  on  the  best  of  the  land  and 
went  to  the  evening  tertulias  of  great  ladies. 

Those  who  were  much  stronger  and  older  than  El 
Chopo  called  him  a  " dreamer "  and  a  "monk."  His 
equals,  however,  had  found  that  his  mild  eyes  could 
lighten  up  with  a  dangerous  fire.  At  such  times  his  aim 
was  unerring,  his  dreams  forgotten,  his  fist  formidable. 
The  lad  had  a  strength  of  muscle  beyond  his  age. 
Strange  to  say,  those  who  remembered  poor  Teresa  in 
her  saucy  moods,  when  they  saw  the  boy  like  this  would 
point  at  him  and  cry,  "  That  is  a  true  son  of  '  La  Chopa.'  ' 
And  thus  he  was  nicknamed  "  El  Chopo,"  which  does 
not  mean  a  "  poplar,"  but  a  certain  kind  of  fish  caught 
on  the  coast  of  Santa  Fe. 

The  lad  was  blue-eyed,  curly-haired,  and  of  fair  com- 
plexion. His  intelligence  was  irrepressible.  Facts  that 
other  boys  accepted  with  the  trustfulness  of  youth  this 
youngster  dissected,  wrestled  with,  and  many  times 
rejected  as  false. 

Hero  worship  being  common  to  all  countries,  it  is 
only  in  the  nature  of  things  that  El  Chopo  and  Pelao 
should  seek  them  out  a  leader.  Possibly  hero  worship 
was  more  powerful  with  Pelao  than  with  his  brother,  yet 
in  any  case,  if  only  for  self-preservation,  it  was  neces- 
sary for  the  lads  to  take  one  side  or  other  in  the  contests 
between  the  various  cliques  and  factions,  of  which  there 
were  many  in  Santa  Fe. 

78 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Their  leader,  appropriately  enough,  was  nicknamed 
"  El  Capitan,"  and  Pelao  believed  him  to  be  "  El  Gran 
Capitan "  himself.  El  Chopo  knew  better.  To  him 
they  swore  allegiance,  and,  when  stone-throwing  affrays 
took  place  in  the  dry  river  bed,  it  was  upon  his  side  they 
fought  and  bled  and  shouted. 

El  Capitan  was  several  years  their  senior ;  in  fact,  he 
was  a  hobbledehoy  of  seventeen,  and  was  intent  upon 
learning  to  play  an  old  guitar  which  had  three  times 
been  broken  and  as  many  times  patched  up. 

There  were  days  when,  in  spite  of  a  cloudless  sky 
above,  the  breakers  were  so  heavy  as  to  prevent  all  lay- 
ing out  or  drawing  in  of  nets.  This  often  happens  on 
the  coast  of  Andaluci'a,  as  the  result,  no  doubt,  of  dis- 
turbances in  the  Mediterranean  elsewhere.  On  such 
occasions  the  lads  would  sometimes  climb  halfway  up 
the  hill,  and,  seated  upon  a  rock  overlooking  the  sea, 
would  hatch  blood-curdling  conspiracies  for  the  discom- 
fiture of  all  fisher  boys  on  the  other  side  of  Santa  Fe. 

To  the  right  hand,  as  far  as  one  could  see,  lay  the 
fertile  vega  of  Santa  Fe,  with  emerald-green  sugar 
canes,  among  which  the  eye  could  trace  a  network  of 
canals  for  irrigation. 

The  floury  main  road  cut  the  sugar  fields  in  twain 
as  it  passed  over  the  river  and  far  into  the  distance 
westward  and  out  of  sight.  At  times  a  little  cloud  of 
dust  would  rise  fitfully  at  some  point  or  other  along  this 
road,  when  the  sleeping  Zephyr  turned  him  over  in  his 
dreams. 

El  Capitan  would  bring  his  guitar  with  him,  and, 
gazing  far  out  to  sea,  would  soon  grow  weary  of  the 
younger  boys'  chatter,  and  would  answer  them  in  pee- 
vish snatches,  whilst  he  plucked  with  his  faltering  fingers 
at  the  strings.  He  was  in  love  with  a  fisher  girl  of 
Cinco  Caminos. 

79 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

One  afternoon  the  three  boys  were  perched  upon  the 
rock  until  sunset.  They  held  forth  thus  :  — 

El  Chopo :  "  What  happens  to  the  sun  when  he  sinks 
into  the  water  ?  " 

Capitdn :  "  He  goes  out,  to  be  sure." 

Peldo  :  "  j  Caracoles  !    What  a  hissing  he  must  make  !  " 

El  Chopo :  "  Then  how  is  it  that  he  comes  up  over  the 
hills  again  in  the  morning  all  alight? " 

Capitdn  :  "  That  is  another  sun,  thickhead  !  " 

El  Chopo :  "  No !  It  is  the  same  one.  I.  have  heard 
the  priest  say  so." 

Capitdn :  "  Fathead !  Have  you  never  heard  them 
talk  of  '  the  sun  of  yesterday '  and  the  '  sun  of  to-mor- 
row,' and  '  the  sun  of  Spain '  and  '  the  sun  of  France '  ? 
Why,  every  country  has  its  sun,  and  so  has  every  day." 

(Ten  minutes'  silence.  El  Chopo  meditative,  but  not 
convinced.) 

Peldo:  "There's  seven  o'clock  sounding  from  the 
Cathedral.  How  the  wind  blows !  " 

Capitdn :  "  That's  because  the  demons  are  shivering 
up  yonder  in  the  hills." 

Peldo :  "  Yes  !     I  know  !  " 

Capitdn :  "  At  Las  Animas  it  will  blow  much  stronger, 
for  then  they  not  only  shiver,  but  gnash  their  teeth  and 
flap  their  wings  into  the  bargain." 

El  Chopo :  "  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it." 

(Receives  a  smack  across  the  head  with  El  Capitan's 
guitar,  and  is  silenced  by  superior  force.) 

Peldo :  "  Look  yonder !  There's  a  squad  of  infantry 
coming  along  the  road  from  the  Guadalote.  What  a 
dust  they  raise !  " 

The  Guitar:  "  Plimpety-plimpety-plimp." 

Capitdn :  "My  brother  is  a  soldier." 

Peldo :  "  And  very  valiant,  eh  ? " 

Capitdn :  "  I  should  just  think  so  !  " 

80 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

El  Chopo :  "  What  has  he  done  ?  " 

Capitdn:  "One  day  he  just  spitted  a  Carlist  on  his 
bayonet  when  another  Carlist  runs  at  him.  My  brother 
makes  no  more  ado  but  lifts  his  rifle,  with  bayonet  and 
Carlist  and  all,  and  spits  the  second  Carlist  with  the  ten 
inches  that  were  left." 

Peldo:  "j  Jesus!" 

The  Guitar:  "  Plimpety-plimp,  plimpety-plimp." 

Capitdn:  "That  isn't  all.  Another  Carlist  charges 
him.  He  lifts  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder  with  both  the 
dead  men  spitted  on  it,  and  shoots  the  third  one  dead 
as  a  nail." 

El  CJiopo :  "It  must  have  been  a  very  long  bayonet." 

Capitdn:  "No,  the  Carlists  were  thinner  than  fish 
bones." 

El  Chopo :  "  How  could  he  see  to  aim  at  the  third 
one?" 

Capitdn :  "  Your  idiocy  surpasses  everything  !  You 
can  do  nothing  but  as"k  me  chuckle-headed  questions." 

(The  squad  of  infantry  marches  past  the  foot  of  the 
hill  with  a  cheery  "  pompety-pompety-pomp  "  of  the 
bugle,  and  a  strident  "  plimpety-plimpety-plimp "  of 
the  guitar.  The  boys  watch  them  disappear  towards 
Santa  Fe,  the  cloud  of  dust  gradually  settling  in  their 
wake.) 

El  Chopo :  "  Look  what  a  red  glare  the  sun  has  left 
behind  it,  and  how  it  shines  along  the  crests  of  the 
rollers." 

Peldo:  "Yes.  It  looks  like  a  roadway  covered  in 
blood." 

El  Chopo:  "I  wonder  what  is  beneath  the  water!" 

Capitdn:  "Sprats." 

El  Chopo :  "  No !  I  don't  mean  that.    You  don't  under- 
stand.     I  mean,  I  wonder  what  is  right  down  in  the 
dark  parts  at  the  bottom,  right  deep  down  ever  so  far." 
G  81 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Capitdn:  "Eels!" 

(El  Chopo  sighs  heavily,  and  looks  pensively  out  to 
sea.) 

The  Guitar:  "  Plimpety-plimpety-plimp." 
Capitdn  (clears  his  throat  and  sings) :  — 

"  At  one  o'clock  my  mother  bore, 
Christened  me  in  an  hours  delay. 
At  three  my  vows  of  love  I  swore : 
At  four  it  was  my  wedding  day."  1 

El  Chopo :  "  It  makes  me  feel  very  glad,  and  yet 
very  sad,  when  I  watch  the  sky  at  sunset.  Everything 
looks  so  different  somehow,  such  times.  I  feel  —  I  feel 
—  I  don't  know  what." 

Capitdn:  "That's  easily  explained"  (plimpety-plimp, 
plimpety-plimp).  "  If  God  made  you  with  an  empty 
head,  and  your  stepfather  leaves  you  with  an  empty 
belly,  j  caracoles  !  " 

El  Chopo :  "  The  priest  talks  of  a  person's  soul  being 
hungry.  How  can  that  be  ?  " 

Capitdn :  "  Hungry  for  consecrated  bread,  that's  what 
he  means." 

El  Chopo :  "  But  that  bread  goes  down  the  same  way 
as  all  other  bread." 

Capitdn :  "  Sawny !  They  both  go  in  at  the  same 
mouth,  but  a  man's  throat  has  two  holes  inside.  Just 
because  you  can't  see  them ! " 

(Pelao  insists  upon  holding  El  Chopo's  jaws  apart 
and  staring  down  his  throat  for  no  little  time,  admit- 
ting much  sea  breeze.  The  guitar  continues  "  plimpety- 
plimp.") 

Peldo  (excitedly) :  "  Yes,  yes,  I  can  see  it,  j  Jesus ! 
I  can  see  it.  Which  hole  does  the  ordinary  bread  go 
down,  Capitdn  ? " 

Capitdn:  "To  the  left." 

1  From  the  Spanish. 
82 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Peldo  :  "  And  the  holy  bread  ?  " 

Capitdn:  "To  the  right." 

Peldo :  "  And  do  they  never  go  wrong  ? " 

Capitdn :  "  Never  !  " 

El  Chopo  (coughing  violently) :  "  You've  let  a  lot  of 
dust  blow  down  my  throat." 

Capitdn :  "  Make  the  most  of  it ;  it's  all  the  supper 
you'll  get  to-night." 

(Capitan  sings  another  verse.  The  others  nurse  their 
knees  and  watch  two  seagulls  which  soar  down  from 
the  hill  into  the  crimson  pathway  along  the  ocean,  and 
it  seems  to  El  Chopo  that  they  bear  with  them  the  last 
dying  cadence  of  the  singer,  and  carry  his  voice  far  out 
to  sea.) 

Thus  did  El  Chopo  spend  his  leisure  hours.  The 
world  was,  for  him,  a  vast  womb  full  of  marvellous 
possibilities.  Instead  of  taking  everything  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course,  he  grew  into  the  way  of  seeking  for  the 
cause  of  each  effect,  and  watching  for  the  effect  of 
every  cause. 

Naturally  his  scope  was  limited,  for  his  intellect, 
which  had  the  elements  of  greatness,  was  as  yet  un- 
trained. Thus,  he  never  paused  to  ask  why  a  stone 
should  fall  to  the  ground,  nor  to  argue  out  the  reason 
why  wind  should  extinguish  flame,  these  appearing 
to  be  self-evident  facts  whose  bases  did  not  call  for 
investigation.  Yet  a  thunderstorm  kept  him  pondering 
for  days,  and  the  whispering  of  the  waves  in  a  sea- 
shell  was  a  phenomenon  over  which  he  had  lain  awake 
for  hours  and  hours. 

Nature,  in  any  shape  or  form,  aroused  his  keenest 
curiosity,  and  the  distant  purple  ridge  of  snow-capped 
mountains  was  his  mystery  of  mysteries.  The  ocean 
seemed  to  hold  some  secret,  to  laugh  at  him  and  bid 
him  find  it  out. 

83 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

His  one  great  ambition  was  to  read  and  write. 

He  did  not  envy  the  rich  people  their  wealth ;  he 
merely  envied  them  the  great  power  for  acquiring 
knowledge  which  their  education  brought  them. 

After  his  fish  were  disposed  of  up  in  Santa  Fe,  he 
would  sit  on  the  donkey's  back  with  his  bare  brown 
legs  astride,  or  both  on  one  side,  as  the  spirit  moved 
him,  but  always  well  astern,  and  would,  jog  along  back 
in  silent  contemplation,  scanning  the  shops  and  cafes 
and  casting  an  envious  glance  at  the  shadowy  portal 
alongside  the  Cathedral,  where  sat  the  public  letter- 
writer,  mending  his  quills,  half  hidden  by  a  screen. 

After  the  diligence  arrived  of  an  evening  there  was 
always  much  selling  of  newspapers  in  the  principal 
streets  and  caf6s.  Voices  would  then  be  upraised  in 
the  chemist's  and  the  barber's,  one  proclaiming  the 
news,  others  declaiming  their  comments,  the  deaf  ones 
wagging  their  heads  to  show  how  close  they  followed  it. 

How  sad  it  made  El  Chopo  to  watch  some  loiterer 
in  a  window  seat  beckon  to  the  woman  who  sold  papers 
and  lottery  tickets,  toss  her  a  penny,  and  lean  back  in 
his  chair  with  a  sigh  as  he  opened  the  oracle  to  see 
what  had  befallen  or  what  was  about  to  befall.  Some- 
times he  bought  newspapers  himself.  Several  of  the 
letters  he  already  recognized  at  sight. 

As  he  grew  older  the  priest  would  take  more  notice 
of  him.  What  did  he  mean  by  patting  him  on  the 
shoulders  and  saying,  "  We  must  learn  to  read ;  we 
must  learn  to  read  and  write  "  ? 

Little  he  needed  such  urging  if  only  the  chance  were 
given  him !  But  the  priest  never  got  any  further 
than  suggestions,  and  he  had  not  the  heart  to  beg 
lessons  from  the  village  schoolmaster  of  Cinco  Cami- 
nos,  for  he  knew  full  well  that  this  learned  man  lacked 
sympathy. 

84 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

And  well  may  a  man  run  short  of  sympathy  who 
never  receives  such  goods  from  any  external  source 
of  replenishment,  whose  worries  are  scarcely  less  nu- 
merous than  his  offspring,  and  whose  stomach  vies  with 
his  pocket  and  tobacco  pouch  in  constant  emptiness. 

Among  the  various  faces  that  El  Chopo  grew  to 
know  on  his  way  to  market  was  that  of  a  kindly  old 
gentleman  who  once  or  twice  had  stopped  him  and 
given  him  a  copper.  The  old  man's  name  was  Don 
Ramon  Gonzalez. 

One  day,  meeting  El  Chopo  perched  upon  his  donkey 
along  the  high  road,  he  left  the  footpath,  and,  resting 
one  hand  upon  the  donkey's  mane,  he  eyed  the  fish. 

"What  will  this  pannier  fetch  in  the  market  now?" 
said  he. 

"  Fifteen  reals,  maybe,"  replied  El  Chopo. 

"  Well,  take  it  to  my  house  !  "  said  the  old  man,  smiling. 

"  And  where  is  your  house,  sir  ?  " 

"The  other  side  of  Santa  Fe,  where  the  road  leads 
down  to  the  salt  pyramids  on  the  beach ;  you  will  find 
it  on  the  left  at  the  corner  of  a  path.  It  is  shaded  by 
eucalyptus,  and  used  to  be  a  farmhouse.  Can  you  find 
it  ? " 

"  Yes,"  replied  El  Chopo. 

And  the  old  man  loosing  the  donkey  and  turning 
back  to  the  path  with  a  cheerful  "  Good  day,"  the  lad 
cantered  off  in  search  of  the  house  in  question. 

It  was  a  pretty  villa,  with  gardens  back  and  front. 
WThen  he  knocked  at  the  door  a  beautiful  little  girl 
came  out  and  opened  it,  her  hands  all  covered  with 
flour.  A  servant  stood  behind  her. 

El  Chopo  felt  a  sense  of  awkwardness  that  had  never 
troubled  him  before,  and  stood  silently  looking  at  this 
child  in  the  very  act  of  lifting  down  his  basket  to  meas- 
ure out  the  fish. 

85 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

The  girl  broke  into  a  pretty  little  rippling  laugh,  and 
the  servant  behind  her,  with  one  hand  upon  the  door 
frame  and  the  other  upon  her  hip,  smiled  curiously,  and 
said  — 

"  What  ails  thee,  charran  ?  " 

Then  he  explained  about  his  meeting  with  Don 
Ram6n. 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  cheat  us,  boy  !  "  said  the  child, 
still  laughing. 

"  Cheat  you  !  " 

His  eyes  flashed  at  her,  and  he  transferred  the  fish 
to  a  bucket  brought  by  the  servant  without  another 
word.  Then  he  was  for  leaping  on  his  donkey,  with- 
out so  much  as  counting  his  fifteen  reals,  when  the  child 
called  after  him  — 

"  Boy,  come  here." 

He  came  to  the  doorstep  again.  He  looked  down 
with  shame  at  his  dirty  feet  and  tattered  clothes. 

"  Boy,  why  are  you  so  sulky  ?  " 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  without  looking  up. 

"  Did  I  say  anything  to  hurt  you  ? " 

Another  shrug. 

"  Why  then,  look  you,  I  will  say  something  to  make 
amends.  I  think  you  are  a  very  pretty  boy,  and  I  like 
your  eyes." 

"  j  Jesus !  "  cried  the  servant  behind  her,  and  pulling 
her  aside,  and  laughing  heartily,  she  slammed  the  door 
in  El  Chopo's  face. 

That  night  El  Chopo,  lying  on  the  floor,  his  head 
pillowed  on  a  coil  of  dry  rope,  dreamed  of  Paradise. 
The  little  maid  seemed  to  him  the  embodiment  of  that 
happier  life  which  he  so  longed  for.  He  pictured  her, 
as  only  a  child  artist  could  picture  her,  in  heavenly 
robes,  and  wearing  a  jewelled  crown  upon  her  dark 
tresses.  In  his  sleep  she  stooped  and  kissed  him. 

86 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Thus  many  years  passed  over  the  heads  of  El  Chopo 
and  Pelao,  and  the  brutalizing  influence  of  this  sordid 
dreary  life  they  led  among  the  half-starved  fisher  folk 
had  wonderfully  little  effect  upon  the  elder  and  more 
intelligent  of  the  boys,  for  he  was  blessed  with  a  kindly 
imagination,  and  was  able  to  weave  great  fabrics  in  the 
air  for  hours  and  hours  together,  earning  for  himself 
the  same  title  that  was  thrust  upon  Joseph  by  his 
brethren. 

As  for  Pelao,  the  hard  life  made  him  cunning  and 
apathetic.  Under  other  conditions  the  lad  might  have 
given  greater  promise,  but,  not  being  able  to  lift  him- 
self above  the  level  of  these  conditions,  he  allowed 
them  to  shape  him  to  their  mould.  And  this  is  the 
case  with  millions,  who  incur  our  scorn,  not  for  what 
they  are,  but  for  what  Providence  has  seen  fit  to  make 
of  them. 


CHAPTER   VII 

"  The  curse  still  burning  in  his  heart  and  brain, 
And  yet  he  doth  remain 
Patient  the  while,  and  tranquil  and  content  : 
The  pious  soul  hath  framed  unto  itself 
A  second  nature,  to  exist  in  pain 
As  in  its  own  allotted  element !  " 

SOUTHEY. 

AFTER  twenty  years  of  exile,  the  Jesuits  were  re- 
called by  Q'Donnell  at  the  instance  of  the  reign- 
ing house  of  France.  Even  a  couple  of  years  before 
this  open  invitation,  however,  matters  had  assumed  a 
more  promising  aspect. 

It  was  at  this  crisis  that  one  Padre  Ignacio  made  his 
appearance  in  Santa  Fe. 

Sixteen  years  in  exile  had  wrought  much  change  in 
the  priest  whom  we  knew  as  Manuel.  White  hair  was 
mingled  with  the  brown,  the  noble  forehead  was  not 
unfurrowed  by  wrinkles,  the  eyes  had  sunk  a  little  in 
their  sockets,  and  the  head  was  no  longer  as  upright  as 
it  used  to  be. 

Padre  Ignacio  arrived  by  the  diligence  one  summer's 
evening.  Instead  of  going  on  to  Santa  Fe  and  putting 
up  at  the  Hotel  of  the  Four  Nations  or  the  Alameda 
Hotel,  both  excellent  institutions  in  their  way,  he  alighted 
at  the  little  Fonda  del  Trini  in  the  village  of  Cinco 
Caminos. 

The  Fonda  del  Trini  is  one  of  those  resting  places 
which  the  high  road,  passing  east  and  west  through 
Santa  Fe,  offers  to  thirsty  travellers.  In  this  oasis  one 
might  waste  a  dreamy  hour  over  a  copita  of  brandy,  a 

88 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

cup  of  coffee,  and  a  cigarette.  It  boasted  one  spare 
bedroom,  and  so  it  had  called  itself  a  "  Fonda."  This 
bedroom  had  been  engaged  and  paid  for  some  weeks 
beforehand,  in  anticipation  of  the  traveller's  arrival. 

The  window  was  shaded  by  an  awning,  and  looked 
out  over  a  parral,  or  courtyard,  covered  with  vines  on 
flat  trellis  work.  It  was  very  pleasant  of  an  evening  to 
sit  at  the  open  window  in  the  starlight  and  gaze  through 
the  apertures  of  the  vine  at  the  faces  in  the  lamplight 
down  below.  Sometimes  the  guitar  and  castanets  would 
assert  themselves,  hands  would  clap  time  to  music,  and 
dainty  feet  would  trip  lightly  in  response  to  some  gallant 
invitation. 

The  one  bedroom  had  been  well  paid  for,  therefore  the 
landlord  and  his  wife  had  no  need  to  be  over  particular. 
Yet  the  day  before  the  Jesuit  arrived,  says  good  Don 
Paco  to  his  fat  helpmate  — 

"  This  priest,  seeing  who  comes  to  bespeak  his  rooms, 
should  be  a  Jesuit." 

"  Aye !     So  says  the  village  priest." 

"  I  have  half  a  mind  to  send  Don  Ram6n  a  message." 

"A  message?" 

"  To  bid  him  take  back  his  money  and  give  me  back 
my  room." 

"Aye!  I'm  none  too  happy  over  it  myself.  The 
Alcalde  says  all  Jesuits  are  poisoners,  and  I  with  two 
little  ones  that  would  take  lollipops  off  Old  Nick  him- 
self !  The  barber  says  that  ill  luck  will  fall  on  the 
house." 

"  And  what  says  the  priest  ? " 

"  Says  naught !  It  isn't  what  he  says,  it's  the  way  he 
looks  and  sighs  and  pauses.  The  things  he  leaves  un- 
said frighten  one  more  than  all  the  other  fools'  twaddle 
put  together.  But  there  "  —  a  deep  sigh  —  "  the  money's 
good  money,  Paco  !  " 

89 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"Well!  let  him  stay  the  night  before  we  begin  to 
talk." 

Arrived  opposite  this  wayside  inn,  the  priest  came  for- 
ward to  the  doorway  and  stood  for  a  moment  bowing  to 
the  landlady.  His  face,  evidently,  was  not  so  very  ap- 
palling, for  the  landlady,  as  though  obeying  some  strong 
impulse,  curtsied  and  kissed  his  hand,  whilst  the  land- 
lord relieved  him  of  his  handbag  and  bestowed  it  in  his 
room. 

"  I  never  saw  evil  behind  such  a  face  as  that,"  said  the 
landlady  when  her  husband  came  downstairs,  leaving  the 
Jesuit  in  his  bedroom. 

Don  Paco  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  grunted 
"Wait!" 

"  What  eyes,  man,  what  eyes !  " 

"  What,  mine  ?  " 

"Thine!     Pish!" 

Scarcely  had  Padre  Ignacio  come  downstairs  when 
he  was  visited  by  one  Don  Ramon  Gonzalez,  a  wealthy 
old  countryman  of  Santa  Fe,  who  had  travelled  in 
France  and  Belgium. 

Don  Ramon  was  proprietor  of  the  sugar  factory  of 
La  Aurora  and  of  many  broad  acres  of  sugar-growing 
meadow  land.  He  made  no  attempt  to  disguise  his 
sympathy  with  the  Jesuits,  though  when  questioned  as 
to  his  actual  dealings  with  that  body  the  old  man  shook 
his  white  head  and  was  silent.  When  people  asserted, 
however,  that  his  prosperity  was  largely  due  to  their 
influence,  and  that  part  of  his  wealth  was  really 
held  in  trust,  he  never  actually  denied  the  statement, 
though  always  endeavouring  to  change  the  conver- 
sation in  his  brusque  manner.  And  your  Spanish 
country  gentleman  of  the  old  type  has  a  way  of 
being  both  blunt  and  diplomatic. 

After  their  greetings  and  congratulations  had  been 

90 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

exchanged,  Padre  Ignacio  and  Don  Ramon  seated 
themselves  at  a  little  square  table  under  the  giant 
vine,  and  a  smoking  hot  dinner  was  placed  before 
them,  together  with  wine  from  Jerez. 

Their  conversation  was,  for  the  most  part,  in  French, 
although  interjections  were  often  let  fall  in  Spanish ; 
and  whenever  they  perceived  that  nobody  was  within 
earshot,  they  conversed  in  Spanish  altogether. 

Eavesdroppers  might  have  gathered  that  Don  Ra- 
mon was  there  to  welcome  the  herald  of  the  Jesuits 
to  offer  him  all  possible  homage  and  assistance,  to 
give  him  whatever  information  and  advice  might 
seem  most  useful,  and  to  render  an  account  of  his 
stewardship.  It  was  noticeable,  however,  that  the  good 
father  never  once  referred  to  the  College  or  any 
other  property  as  directly  belonging  to  the  Jesuits. 
In  fact,  he  courteously  interrupted  his  companion 
whenever  such  assumptions  were  made. 

"And  when  Don  Antonio  Nieto  handed  you  the 
keys  of  the  College,"  said  Padre  Ignacio,  after  several 
matters  had  already  been  discussed,  "  did  you  find  it 
in  good  condition  or  —  how?" 

Don  Ramon  shrugged  his  shoulders,  tightened  his 
elbows  against  his  ribs,  and  extended  his  forearms 
with  the  hands  outspread  and  the  palms  turned  up- 
wards. This  posture,  joined  to  a  certain  pursing  of 
the  lips  and  raising  of  the  eyebrows,  was  a  polite  in- 
timation that  he  preferred  to  say  as  little  as  possible. 
For  Don  Ramon  knew  full  well  that  Antonio  was  the 
Jesuit's  brother. 

"  Antonio,"  continued  the  Padre,  "  is  still  in  Madrid. 
Some  say  that  he  has  contracted  certain  ties  which  bind 
him  there,  others  "  (and  here  the  Jesuit  smiled  scep- 
tically) "  maintain  that  he  has  laid  the  foundation  of 
a  prosperous  business,  and  is  likely  to  double  his 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

present  fortune.  -However  that  may  be,  it  is  improb- 
able that  he  will  return  to  Santa  Fe.  Do  not  therefore 
be  overscrupulous  in  speaking  your  mind." 

Don  Ramon  turned  his  wine  glass  round  and  round 
between  his  thumb  and  forefinger,  regarding  the  golden 
liquor  with  a  perplexed  frown.  Presently  he  spoke. 

"Without  beating  about  the  bush,  if  you  ask  me 
to  speak  my  mind  freely,  Don  Antonio's  line  of 
conduct  whilst  in  Santa  Fe  was  not  only  remarkable 
for  its  omission  of  those  duties  which  were  given  him 
in  trust,  but  was  even  —  j  vaya !  —  was  even  scan- 
dalous." 

The  Jesuit  pushed  his  plate  aside  and  leant  forward 
on  his  elbows,  regarding  his  companion  with  eager 
curiosity.  There  was  even  a  strained  look  about  the 
blue  eyes  and  a  sudden  pallor  in  the  face. 

"  Was  even  scandalous,  eh  ? " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  other,  still  frowning  at  his  wine, 
"for  a  man,  look  you,  that  comes  rollicking  into  a 
quiet  town  like  Santa  Fe  and  is  followed  ten  days 
later  by  a  mistress,  a  peasant  woman  from  the  North, 
and  in  a  certain  condition  which  boots  us  not  to  talk 
about  —  a  man  who  bears  himself  thus  is  scarcely  one 
to  be  associated  with  the  Company  of  Jesus.  But 
I  offend  your  ear  ?  " 

"  In  no  way,"  replied  the  Jesuit,  clearing  his  throat 
"  I  am  without  any  personal  feeling  in  the  matter.  I 
wish  you  honestly  to  speak  your  mind  and  to  yield  me 
your  impressions,  leaving  me  to  accept  or  reject  as  God 
directs  me." 

"  Well,  then,  I  repeat,  it  was  a  scandalous  thing.  It 
is  most  shameful  that  a  man  should  wreak  such  wrong 
against  a  woman,  but  when  that  man,  in  addition,  holds 
the  honour  of  a  great  fraternity  in  hand,  such  conduct 
passes  my  comprehension." 

92 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  Such  men,"  replied  the  Jesuit  hoarsely,  with  his 
eyes  aflame,  "  should  certainly  be  stoned  to  death." 

"  Aye  !  you  speak  justly." 

"Though  it  lies  in  their  power  to  make  some  little 
reparation.  I  mean  towards  the  woman." 

"Yes,"  returned  Don  Ramon,  "it  lies  in  their  power 
to  do  so,  but  they  never  do  it." 

"You  mean  —  ?" 

"  I  mean  this  —  that  Don  Antonio  begat  two  children 
by  this  poor  woman,  and  then  deserted  her." 

"  Deserted  her  ?  "  echoed  the  Jesuit,  as  in  a  trance. 

"  And  left  her  utterly  unprovided  for." 

"  And  what  became  of  her  ?  " 

The  other  laughed.  Yet  his  laugh  had  something  of 
that  bitterness  which  men  acquire  with  a  knowledge 
of  this  world's  cruelty  and  misery., 

"  You  know  the  old  adage !  '  Hunger  and  the  Devil 
each  claimed  to  be  'the  uglier,  and  laid  a  wager. 
Woman  was  made  the  judge,  and  Hunger  won  the 
wager.'  After  some  few  changes  and  vicissitudes,  she 
became  the  companion  of  a  poor  fisherman,  who  treated 
her —  j  vaya  !  — as  such  people  are  wont  to  do." 

The  priest  rose  from  his  seat  and  strode  a  few  paces 
away,  where  he  stood  looking  into  a  clump  of  banana 
trees  with  his  back  to  Don  Ramon. 

Presently  he  returned  to  the  table,  remarking  with  a 
smile  — 

"  I  am  ever  suspicious,  and  I  thought  I  heard  a 
crunching  of  the  gravel  behind  the  bushes." 

"  For  my  part,  I  heard  nothing,"  said  Don  Ramon. 

"  Forgive  my  interruption.  I  have  a  fad  which  I 
trust  you  will  allow  me  to  indulge.  In  the  northern 
clime  whence  I  have  just  arrived  our  sky  is  so  often 
cloudy,  our  feeble  moon  so  sickly,  that  the  glorious 
Andaluci'an  moonshine  stealing  through  this  vine  re- 

93 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

proaches  me  for  keeping  a  lamp  alight.  Seeing  that 
our  meal  is  ended,  I  propose  to  extinguish  this  artificial 
light,  and  revel  in  the  natural  one." 

"  By  all  means." 

The  priest  put  out  the  lamp,  and  seated  himself 
again. 

"  And  now,  my  dear  Don  Ramon,  what  is  it  you  were 
saying?  Ah,  yes,  that  the  fisherman  treated  this  woman 
very  ill." 

"  She  slaved  from  early  morning  till  late  at  night  be- 
side the  other  women  at  the  washing  trough,  and  many 
a  day  she  trudged  with  naked  feet  to  the  river  Guada- 
lote  with  her  burden." 

"Hah!" 

"  When  the  winter  rains  and  gales  put  a  stop  alike  to 
fishing  and  to  washing,  it  is  said  that  she  and  her  little 
ones  were  without  a  crust  to  eat  for  days  together,  and 
sometimes  were  even  driven  to  begging  in  Santa  Fe,  or 
raking  among  the  rubbish  heaps." 

"  And  did  she  not  say  a  word  ?  did  she  not  publish 
her  wrongs  ? " 

"  How  so  ?  It  was  common  knowledge  that  she  was 
the  cast-off  mistress  of  Don  Antonio." 

"  To  be  sure.     I  remember  now." 

"  However,  what  is  done  is  done  —  " 

"  But,  my  dear  sir,  in  a  way  we  may  still  make  repa- 
ration," said  the  Jesuit,  rising  from  his  chair  and  strid- 
ing up  and  down  between  the  rush  chairs  and  trunks  of 
vine.  "  This  woman  and  her  children  must  be  rescued 
from  their  misery.  I  will  make  it  my  own  particular 
duty  to  look  to  it,  and  at  once." 

"  You  cannot." 

"  Cannot  ?    I  must  and  will.    Who  shall  prevent  me  ?  " 

"  She  is  dead  and  buried." 

The  Jesuit  stood  looking  down  at  him  for  a  while, 

94 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

and  his  back  being  turned  to  the  moonlight,  Don  Ramon 
was  unable  to  note  whether  any  keen  emotions  were 
exerting  themselves  in  his  features. 

When  he  sat  down  his  companion  felt  sure  that  a 
moan  had  escaped  from  those  pale  and  tightened  lips. 

He  also  remarked  that  from  that  moment  Padre 
Ignacio's  interest  in  all  the  further  news  he  had  to  tell 
him  was  purely  mechanical.  Often  when  an  answer 
was  required  it  was  not  forthcoming. 

Nevertheless,  he  pretended  not  to  notice  these  omis- 
sions, and  patiently  waded  through  the  list  of  their 
common  enemies  and  probable  supporters. 

Don  Ramon  saw  fit  to  analyze  public  feeling  in  great 
detail. 

Whilst  public  feeling  is  thus  submitted  to  the  micro- 
scope, let  us  pause  for  a  moment  to  ascertain  its  ten- 
dency and  weight. 

Long  before  Padre  Ignacio  and  Don  Ramon  had  fin- 
ished their  meal  of  chicken  and  rice,  the  lizards  were 
awakened  by  a  buzz  of  heated  conversation  inside  the 
barber's  shop,  and  after  the  Padre  had  been  left  alone 
and  was  gazing  at  the  moonlight  stealing  between  the 
leaves  and  tendrils,  the  import  of  his  arrival  had  been 
exhaustively  examined  from  some  fifteen  distinct  and 
separate  points  of  view,  ten  inside,  three  at  the  window, 
and  two  in  the  doorway. 

Of  these  fifteen,  however,  only  one  was  being  shaved. 
The  remainder  had  just  looked  in. 

The  village  priest  was  there  seated  upon  a  bench,  the 
schoolmaster  was  under  operation  in  the  shaving  chair, 
the  mayor,  or  Alcalde,  who  also  was  a  goatherd,  stood 
scratching  his  head  with  one  hand  and  holding  his  hat 
in  the  other,  whilst  a  dozen  of  the  more  well-to-do  fisher- 
men, boatowners,  and  tradesmen  were  leaning  against 
various  greasy  corners  of  the  shop,  inside  and  out.  One 

95 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

man,  seated  on  the  ground  in  a  corner,  however,  is 
worthy  of  our  passing  notice. 

He  wore  a  soft  felt  hat  somewhat  tall  in  the  crown, 
not  quite  so  pointed  and  conical  as  the  gipsy's  sugar- 
loaf  hat,  but  halfway  between  this  type  and  the  low 
hemispherical  crown  that  is  often  seen  to-day. 

From  underneath  this  hat  fell  streaming  a  long  red- 
spotted  handkerchief  over  the  nape  of  his  neck.  He 
wore  a  gaily-coloured  jacket  hanging  hussar-fashion 
over  his  shoulders,  and  round  his  waist  was  an  ample 
crimson  sash,  wound  round  and  round  him  several 
times,  and  forming  a  handy  receptacle  for  knives  or 
contraband  tobacco. 

Open  leather  leggings  encased  his  legs  below  the 
knees,  and  from  each  knee  dangled  a  leather  ball  and 
tassel. 

He  was  short  in  stature,  and  this  shortness  was  fur- 
ther accentuated  by  a  stoop.  The  nose  was  long  and 
straight  and  thin.  The  eyes  were  small  and  hidden 
under  very  bushy  black  eyebrows.  The  mouth  was 
ugly  and  derisive,  the  face  was  clean-shaven. 

The  link  that  held  this  man  to  Cinco  Caminos  was 
his  employment  in  the  deserted  Jesuit  College  on  the 
hilltop,  where  he  had  been  custodian  for  the  last 
six  or  seven  years,  occasionally  hiring  a  couple  of 
farm-labourers  to  make  up  arrears  of  gardening,  and 
sometimes  not  being  visible  for  weeks  and  weeks 
together.  His  somewhat  mysterious  manner  of  exist- 
ence, joined  to  his  ugliness,  had  caused  the  children  to 
christen  him  "Tfo  Patas."  This  nickname  clung  to 
him  pertinaciously,  and  it  suited  his  derisive  humour 
to  accept  it. 

Tio  Patas  received  his  pay  from  Don  Ram6n  Gonza- 
lez, who  would  often  visit  the  College  and  criticise  its 
condition.  It  was  subseqent  to  such  visits  that  Tfo 

96 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Patas  came  down  sore-headed  to  the  village  and  hired 
himself  further  assistance.  Recently,  however,  he  had 
been  in  and  out  of  the  village  more  frequently. 

One  of  his  little  fads  was  to  consider  himself  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Jesuit  order  and  to  speak  of  the  Company 
as  "  we."  Another  consisted  of  a  most  grandiloquent 
way  he  had  of  addressing  listeners  with  an  elegant 
wave  of  the  arm,  his  cigarette  held  gracefully  between 
his  thumb  and  forefinger,  the  little  finger  stiffly  ex- 
tended, the  hand  sweeping  round  and  round  in  hori- 
zontal circles  to  punctuate  each  sentence. 

He  spoke  with  an  evident  relish  of  every  word  he 
uttered,  and,  for  want  of  an  audience  on  the  hilltop, 
had  sometimes  been  known  to  harangue  the  empty 
air,  commencing  "  Gentlemen." 

Having  just  concluded  a  fierce  and  well-rounded 
period,  he  put  his  cigarette  back  into  his  mouth,  half 
closed  his  eyes  as  the  smoke  encircled  his  face,  and 
listened  for  the  agreement  or  opposition  of  his  audi- 
ence. 

Of  the  schoolmaster  nothing  was  visible  save  his 
two  arms  and  hands,  which  were  held  out  on  either 
side  of  the  barber,  who  was  stooping  over  his  head 
from  behind.  The  assembly,  however,  riveted  their 
eyes  upon  the  schoolmaster's  hands,  which  were  very 
eloquent,  sometimes  clenching  themselves  and  shaking 
convulsively  with  pathos  or  conviction,  at  others  stiffly 
extended  in  an  appeal  to  one's  sense  of  reason,  and  even 
turned  palms  downwards  and  paddling  along  in  the  air 
whilst  their  owner  was  seeking  for  a  clinching  phrase 
to  throw  at  the  head  of  his  enemy. 

The  oil  lamp  suspended  low  down  from  the  ceiling 

projected   the  shadow  of   the  schoolmaster's  hands  all 

over  the  walls  to  left  and  right,  and  when  he  waggled 

his  left-hand  thumb   he  made  the  Alcalde   blink,  and 

H  97 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

when  he  shaped  his  thumbs  and  forefingers  as  if  h.e 
were  taking  a  pinch  of  salt  (a  gesture  made  use  of 
when  the  argument  was  very  subtle)  he  seemed  to  be 
plucking  at  the  priest's  bald  head  with  a  hand  of  gigan- 
tic size. 

There  were  times  when  the  schoolmaster's  mouth  was 
filled  with  the  conventional  walnut,  which  in  those  days 
was  often  made  use  of  by  lantern-jawed  customers  in 
order  to  afford  the  barber  a  convex  surface.  During 
such  moments  his  hands  were  all  that  were  left  to  him, 
for  the  walnut  was  large,  and  had  served,  with  occasional 
swilling,  through  many  and  many  a  month. 

"Enough,"  said  the  schoolmaster,  "of  personal 
abuse." 

"  Well  said,"  remarked  the  priest. 

"  Our  friends  the  Alcalde  and  Tio  Patas  are  inclined 
to  base  their  arguments  upon  each  other's  parentage  and 
honesty.  That  is  not  the  point.  What  are  we  here 
for?" 

"To  get  shaved,"  suggested  the  barber. 

"  No !  "  shouted  the  schoolmaster  indignantly,  and 
glaring  at  the  barber  upside  down ;  "  that  is  a  minor 
count.  We  are  here  to  decide  whether  or  no  the  Jesuits 
shall  return  to  Santa  Fe  ;  that  is  the  point." 

Acclamation  from  the  window  and  hasty  retreat  of  an 
inquisitive  lizard. 

"  That  is  the  point.  And  how  to  decide  that  point  ? 
There  are  two  possible  methods  of  attacking  every 
problem,  synthesis  and  analysis." 

"And  paralysis,"  ventured  the  Alcade,  looking  round 
the  room  to  see  whether  he  had  put  his  foot  in  it. 
Nobody  was  smiling,  so  the  Alcalde  thought  he  had 
scored  a  point.  The  schoolmaster's  two  hands  where- 
with he  had  thrown  "  synthesis  "  and  "  analysis  "  at  his 
audience  looked  not  a  little  surprised,  but  the  worthy 

98 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

man  owed  the  Alcalde  six  hundred  reals,  so  he  made  the 
best  of  it,  and  said  — 

"  Our  much  esteemed  Alcalde  is  a  man  of  original 
thought.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  there  is  a  third  method 
of  argument,  which  one  might  call  'paralysis.'  It 
demands,  however,  no  little  strength  of  lungs,  and 
whilst  admitting  that  we  might  tackle  our  subject  in 
all  three  ways  —  that  is  to  say  by  '  synthesis,  analysis, 
and  paralysis,'  I  propose  to  confine  myself  to  the  two 
former,  in  view  of  their  greater  logic  and  impor- 
tance." 

"  Well  said  ! "  cried  those  outside,  who  had  not  a 
notion  of  what  he  meant. 

"And  having  decided  upon  our  system  of  investi- 
gation, let  us  proceed  to  put  it  into  practice. 

"  The  question  as  to  whether  or  no  we  can  tolerate 
the  Jesuits  in  Santa  Fe  depends,  I  opine,  upon  how 
the  Jesuits  will  behave  themselves  ? " 

"  So  far  I  am  with  you,"  assented  Ti'o  Patas. 

"Very  well,  then,"  continued  the  schoolmaster,  "in 
order  to  build  up  an  idea  of  what  their  conduct  will  be 
in  the  future,  we  first  must  ascertain  what  it  has  been 
in  the  past." 

"  Precisely,"  replied  the  priest. 

"  Precisely.  That  is  to  say,  in  order  that  we  may 
perform  the  complex  operation  of  synthesis,  we  must 
first  deal  with  the  scarcely  less  complex  problem  of 
analysis." 

The  schoolmaster's  hands  being  opened  wide  and 
stiff  in  an  appeal  to  common  sense,  his  audience  has- 
tened to  declare  that  this  point  was  obvious,  especially 
as  it  did  not  appear  to  involve  any  decision  whatever. 

"  Well,  then,"  resumed  the  schoolmaster,  thrusting 
aside  the  hand  of  the  barber,  who  was  about  to  replace 
the  walnut  inside  his  hollow  cheeks,  "  let  us  first  com- 

99 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

mence  with  the  recital  of  what  we  well  and  truly  know 
the  Jesuits  to  have  done  or  left  undone.  Having 
agreed  the  list  of  good  and  evil,  we  will  afterwards 
proceed  with  the  second  and  more  difficult  operation. 

"  Item  No.  i,  let  it  be  declared." 

Hereupon  the  barber  succeeded  in  forcing  the  walnut 
into  the  schoolmaster's  mouth,  who  contented  himself 
with  holding  aloft  his  closed  fist  as  an  intimation  that 
each  item,  when  approved,  should  be  counted  by  the 
extension  of  its  corresponding  finger. 

"Item  No.  i,"  said  the  Alcalde.  "The  Jesuits 
poisoned  the  wells  and  caused  the  plague." 

"  Thou  art  a  liar  ! "  cried  Ti'o  Patas. 

"  I  am  the  Alcalde,"  remonstrated  the  other  with 
much  dignity. 

" '  For  want  of  good  men  they  made  my  father 
Alcalde/ "  laughed  Ti'o  Patas,  repeating  an  ancient 
quip. 

The  schoolmaster's  hands  were  here  seen  to  open 
and  to  churn  the  air  in  a  weary  and  deprecating  man- 
ner, the  priest  coughed  and  murmured  that  the  pro- 
ceedings lacked  formality,  seeing  which  those  outside 
urged  that  the  disputants  should  apologize.  The  Al- 
calde and  Ti'o  Patas,  however,  being  old  friends,  were 
all  the  more  embittered  with  each  other  now  that  they 
had  fallen  out  in  argument. 

"  Item  No.  i,  the  Jesuits  poisoned  the  wells,"  re- 
peated the  Alcalde,  setting  his  teeth  firmly. 

"Then  I  only  lament  one  thing,"  said  Ti'o  Patas. 

"What  dost  thou  lament,  man?"  asked  the  Alcalde 
unguardedly. 

"  That  thou  hadst  already  given  up  water  and  taken 
to  drinking  rum." 

At  this  point  there  arose  such  a  fierce  altercation 
that  the  schoolmaster  took  the  walnut  out  of  his  mouth 

100 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

and  sat  upright  in  his  chair  with  face  bedaubed  in 
soapsuds,  endeavouring  to  quell  the  outcry.  Two  of 
the  bystanders  rushed  in  between  Ti'o  Patas  and  the 
Alcalde,  and  the  priest  protested  loudly  at  such  riotous 
behaviour. 

Eventually  the  disputants  were  pacified,  every  one 
resumed  his  station  as  before,  and  the  barber  went  on 
shaving. 

Nevertheless,  Ti'o  Patas  gained  his  point.  The  wells 
were  ruled  out  of  order,  and  the  schoolmaster  as  yet 
had  not  extended  a  single  thumb  or  finger. 

"Item  No.  2,"  said  the  Alcalde  resignedly;  "the 
Jesuits  practised  immorality." 

"  Forgive  me,  gentlemen,"  interrupted  Ti'o  Patas, 
"  for  troubling  you  with  one  or  two  remarks.  Our 
Company  is  far  above  the  aspersions  of  this  gentle- 
man. Even  were  we  not,  however,  there  is  a  Castilian 
proverb  which  says,  '  he  who  has  a  roof  of  glass  should 
not  throw  stones  at  his  neighbour.'  If  this  be  so  "  — 
here  he  grinned  derisively  and  waved  his  hand  at  the 
Alcalde  — "  what  think  ye  of  a  man  who,  living  with 
another  man's  wife,  yet  dares  to  call  out  upon  us  for 
immorality?" 

The  Alcalde  winced  at  the  roar  of  laughter  which 
followed  this  accusation,  but  knowing  it  to  be  true,  he 
accorded  it  silent  contempt,  and  continued  excitedly  — 

"  The  truth  is  the  truth,  however  the  Jesuits  may 
parry  and  evade  it.  They  are  born  without  shame. 
You  cannot  change  the  markings  of  a  beast  — " 

"  That  argument  smells  of  goats,"  chuckled  Ti'o 
Patas. 

It  now  became  evident  that  the  matter  could  pro- 
ceed no  further  on  these  lines,  and,  the  bystanders 
intervening  once  moje,  the  Alcalde  worked  himself 
into  such  a  fury  that  he  strode  out  of  the  barber's 

101 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

shop  muttering  curses  upon  all  whom  it  contained, 
and  very  nearly  foaming  at  the  mouth. 

When  silence  had  been  restored  and  the  priest  had 
made  and  lighted  another  cigarette,  he  thus  addressed 
the  assembly  — 

"Gentlemen,  far  be  it  from  me,  a  humble  priest, 
loving  all  my  neighbours,  whether  good  Christians  or 
Jesuits,  and  wrestling  with  the  devil  seven  days  a 
week  —  far  be  it  from  me  to  cast  aspersions  on  so 
mighty  an  organization  as  the  Company  of  Jesus. 

"  I  have  always  refused  to  do  so,  and  shall  ever  so 
continue.  Our  worthy  schoolmaster  has  asked  for  a 
list  of  those  accusations  which,  at  various  times,  have 
been  brought  against  the  Jesuits. 

"  Without  in  any  way  upholding  these  accusations,  I 
venture,  as  a  purely  impartial  onlooker,  to  fill  up  the 
gap  which  no  other  person  here  present  elects  to  deal 
with.  I  must  ask  you  to  bear  in  mind  that  I  merely 
repeat  what  I  have  heard,  and  place  it  before  you  with- 
out comment,  for  what  it  is  worth. 

"  Be  it  known,  then,  that  there  are  those  who  accuse 
the  Jesuits  of  overweening  ambition,  who  say  that  they 
stop  at  nothing  in  order  to  climb  above  men's  heads  into 
a  position  of  tyrannical  power. 

"It  has  been  said  that  even  the  poison  cup  has 
formed  an  item  in  the  multitude  of  means  to  attain 
their  ends.  Exempt  from  the  vow  of  poverty,  it  is 
their  custom  secretly  to  acquire  great  wealth.  At  one 
time  they  possessed,  in  South  America  alone,  some  hun- 
dreds of  square  miles  of  territory,  over  seventy  thou- 
sand head  of  cattle,  and  a  vast  retinue  of  servants. 

"  This,  remember,  is  not  what  I  say  myself,  but  only 
what  I  have  heard  from  others. 

"  In  all  countries,  so  they  say,  the  Jesuits  have  secretly 
acquired  much  property.  For  the  most  part  this  prop- 

102 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

erty  is  held  through  the  mediation  of  laymen,  who  are 
merely  their  puppets  —  " 

"And  what  if  it  be  true?"  interrupted  Tio  Patas ; 
"  what  if  the  sugar  factory  kept  threescore  of  men 
employed  when  the  Jesuits  possessed  it  ?  Whom  the 
Lord  loveth,  his  bitch  litters  sucking  pigs !  Why, 
when  they  went  away  it  fell  into  a  ruin,  and  those 
who  laboured  there  were  starved ! " 

"Very  well,"  assented  the  priest  with  dignity,  "far 
be  it  from  me  to  prove  to  you  aught  else  than  what  you 
say.  I  have  no  interest  whatever  in  so  doing.  Now  let 
us  proceed  to  other  matters.  There  are  those  who 
accuse  the  Jesuits  of  impiety  and  idolatry. 

"  In  proof  of  these  assertions  it  has  been  shown  that 
in  China  the  Jesuit  missionaries,  finding  the  natives  un- 
willing to  forsake  their  idols,  grafted  a  kind  of  spurious 
Christianity  on  to  the  existing  paganism,  and  by  that 
means  were  enabled  to  avoid  collision  with  the  people. 
If  this  be  so,  and  I  only  repeat  what  has  been  told  to 
me,  it  would  suggest  that  the  Jesuits  were  more  anxious 
to  further  their  worldly  aims  and  ambitions  than  to 
preach  the  Gospel  of  Christ. 

"  This  accusation  is  so  grave  that  I  leave  you  entirely 
to  judge  of  its  solidity." 

The  priest,  however,  resumed  his  cigarette  with  so 
heavy  a  countenance,  and  shook  his  head  with  such 
palpable  conviction,  that  his  listeners  doubted  not  for 
one  moment  what  were  his  inmost  thoughts.  Tio  Patas 
was  the  next  to  speak. 

"  China,  look  you,  gentlemen,  is  many  a  hundred 
miles  away  — 

"  Many  a  thousand,"  corrected  the  schoolmaster,  who 
had  risen  from  the  shaving-chair  and  was  wiping  his 
chin. 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  the  story,  when  it  arrives. 
103 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

When  one  knows  how  much  a  tale  may  gather  between 
here  and  Madrid,  how  the  devil  are  we  to  believe  a  story 
that  has  travelled  some  thousands  of  miles  ?  " 

"  Lastly,"  resumed  the  priest,  "  it  has  been  said  — 

At  this  instant  there  was  some  little  commotion 
around  the  door,  and  the  Alcalde  pushed  his  way  in, 
holding  in  his  hand  his  baton  of  office,  and  accompanied 
by  the  Alguacil,  or  village  constable. 

"  This,"  thundered  the  Alcalde,  glaring  all  around  him, 
"is  a  riotous  meeting." 

"  Fiddlesticks  !  "  ejaculated  the  priest  and  the  school- 
master in  astonishment. 

"  Is  a  riotous  meeting,"  repeated  the  furious  Alcalde, 
"  and  as  such  must  be  suppressed." 

Several  murmurs  of  indignation  here  arose,  among  the 
bystanders. 

"  Understand  me,  gentlemen,"  continued  the  Alcalde, 
"  I  come  but  to  suppress  the  riotous  and  treasonable  por- 
tion of  this  meeting.  The  respectable  and  orderly  por- 
tion remain  with  God  and  without  my  interference." 

"  And  which  is  the  riotous  and  treasonable  portion  ? " 
asked  the  schoolmaster. 

The  Alcalde  made  no  answer,  but,  signing  to  the 
Alguacil,  he  cast  himself  upon  Tfo  Patas  and  lifted 
him  under  the  arms,  and  the  Alguacil  having  impris- 
oned an  ankle  in  either  hand,  the  procession  went  out 
of  the  door. 

After  they  had  gone  some  distance  up  the  village, 
the  Alcalde  dragged  his  victim  down  a  side  street, 
for  several  of  the  idlers  had  followed  them  from  the 
barber's. 

"  Where  are  you  taking  me  ? "  asked  Tio  Patas,  when 
they  sat  him  on  the  ground  to  rest. 

"  That  where  are  we  taking  you  ? "  repeated  the  Al- 
calde, panting  and  looking  with  a  frown  towards  the 

104 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Alguacil,  who  took  off  his  cap  and  commenced  to 
scratch  his  head. 

"  Aye,  where  are  you  taking  me  ? " 

"Why  didst  thou  call  me  such  filthy  names,  me,  the 
Alcalde,  and  before  so  many  people  ?  Dost  thou  think 
that  I  have  no  self-respect  ?  By  God,  thou  hast  called 
me  all  the  foulest  terms  in  the  dictionary." 

"  The  stupidity  of  this  animal !  "  ejaculated  Ti'o  Patas, 
turning  up  the  whites  of  his  eyes  to  heaven. 

"  It  is  the  truth." 

"  What !  "  thundered  Ti'o  Patas,  springing  towards  the 
other  in  an  apparent  frenzy  of  indignation,  "  dost  thou 
dare  say  before  witnesses  that  I  called  thee  all  the  foulest 
terms  there  are  ?  " 

"  Thou  saidst  I  was  an  adulterer,  a  liar,  and  an  ass." 

"  Did  I  call  thee  a  cheat  ? " 

"No." 

"  Or  a  bandit  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Or  a  thief  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  All  of  which  thou  art  Then  give  thanks  to  God 
that  I  said  so  little." 

Saying  which,  Ti'o  Patas  handed  the  Alcalde  a  ciga- 
rette, which  at  first  he  refused  to  take,  but  being  com- 
pelled with  much  violence,  at  last  accepted  it  and  even 
lighted  it  from  the  flame  which  the  other  kindled. 

"  Nevertheless  —  "  resumed  the  Alcalde,  whose  wrath 
was  not  quite  dead. 

"  Smoke  and  hold  thy  peace,"  said  Ti'o  Patas,  and  he 
found  another  cigarette  for  the  Alguacil,  and  last  of  all 
took  one  for  himself  out  of  a  special  petaca  whence  only 
himself  was  served.  Those  who  passed  that  way  for 
some  little  time  afterwards  saw  nothing  but  three  incan- 
descent sparks  in  a  line  along  the  low  stone  wall,  and 

105 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

each  spark  in  its  turn  would  grow  more  vivid  and  illu- 
minate a  countenance ;  then  it  would  descend  to  a  lower 
level,  whereupon  a  voice  would  arise  in  friendly  converse, 
and  presently,  the  red  spark  resuming  its  position,  the 
voice  would  cease  and  one  of  the  other  sparks,  com- 
mencing to  glow  more  brilliantly,  seemed  to  portend 
that  an  answer  was  coming  forth. 

Now  the  defender  of  the  Jesuits  having  been  ab- 
stracted from  the  assembly  in  this  most  sudden  fashion, 
there  were  only  left  the  accuser  and  the  judge. 

And  this  accounts  for  my  being  unable  to  tell  you 
that  any  definite  conclusion  was  formed  on  this  occa- 
sion. Report  has  it  that  before  another  twenty  minutes 
had  elapsed  the  schoolmaster  was  seen  to  yawn  and 
stretch  himself,  the  barber,  subsiding  in  an  easy  chair 
beside  the  door,  was  heard  to  snore,  and  the  priest, 
looking  contemptuously  around  the  barber's  shop,  was 
observed  to  rise  from  his  bench,  to  gather  up  his 
skirts  and  to  stride  out  home,  gazing  up  at  the  stars 
and  wondering  what  God  was  thinking  of  to  station 
him  amongst  these  idiots,  with  only  twelve  reals  a 
day  wherewith  to  bless  himself. 

And  the  lizards,  having  assured  themselves  that 
nothing  more  was  happening,  disported  over  the  lin- 
tel to  their  hearts'  content,  and  the  cigarron,  perceiv- 
ing that  at  last  he  might  assert  himself,  commenced, 
at  first  tentatively,  to  chirp  forth  his  one  and  only 
note,  then,  growing  bolder,  sent  forth  such  a  trium- 
phant clamour  that  at  last  he  obtained  an  answer  from 
some  six  or  seven  sympathizers,  and  they  all  gave 
thanks  that  the  village  had  gone  to  sleep. 


1 06 


CHAPTER  VIII 

"  Yet  had  his  aspect  nothing  of  severe, 
But  such  a  face  as  promised  him  sincere. 
Nothing  reserved  or  sullen  was  to  see, 
But  sweet  regards,  and  pleasing  sanctity  : 
Mild  was  his  accent,  and  his  action  free." 

DRYDEN. 

ON  the  following  morning  Padre  Ignacio,  who  all 
night  long  had  barely  closed  his  eyes  for  half  an 
hour,  was  surprised  by  the  sudden  opening  of  his  door, 
when  a  swarthy,  black-eyed  damsel,  with  short  petti- 
coats around  her  ankles  and  a  red  carnation  in  her 
hair,  came  to  his  bedside  and  announced  that  in  com- 
pliance with  his  orders  she  had  prepared  his  coffee 
and  was  there  to  bid  him  rise. 

Without  more  ado  the  young  woman  next  stepped 
over  to  the  chair  on  which  rested  the  good  father's 
clothing,  felt  his  woollen  under-vest  and  exclaimed 
"  j  Jesus  !  "  when  she  found  how  thick  it  was,  examined 
his  hose  and  boots  inside  and  out,  and  marvelled  that 
everything  should  be  so  heavy. 

"  I  have  come  from  a  cold  climate,  daughter," 
answered  the  astonished  priest,  "  and  I  will  thank 
thee  to  leave  me  alone  and  close  the  door." 

After  which  the  Jesuit  dressed  himself  and,  coming 
downstairs,  sat  moodily  taking  his  coffee  at  the  same 
table  under  the  vine  where,  overnight,  he  had  supped 
with  Don  Ramon. 

Having  finished  his  coffee  and  having  spent  half  an 
hour  in  writing,  Padre  Ignacio  went  forth  to  "  take  the 
air."  For  nearly  a  mile  he  was  allowed  to  saunter  along 

107 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

quite  unmolested,  but  turning  down  on  to  the  beach 
and  leaving  the  road  behind,  he  observed  that  a  group 
of  young  ragamuffins  were  hovering  in  his  wake.  Pres- 
ently he  discerned  cries  of  "Jesuit"  and  "Infidel," 
which,  from  being  half  audible  at  first,  had  gradually 
become  louder  and  louder,  and  before  very  long  he 
heard  a  whirr  in  the  air  behind  him,  which  was  followed 
by  the  rattle  of  a  stone  on  the  pebbles  to  his  right,  then 
another  whirr,  and  a  second  projectile  flew  past  him  on 
the  left. 

The  Jesuit  turned  to  face  his  persecutors,  who 
paused  to  look  at  him  and  half  drew  back ;  then,  after 
a  moment's  thought,  he  strode*  to  where  the  first  pebble 
seemed  to  have  fallen,  and,  making  believe  to  pick  it 
up,  raised  his  arm  aloft  with  a  round  black  object  held 
between  finger  and  thumb. 

"  Look  !  "  he  cried ;  "  what  it  is  you  have  thrown  at 
me." 

The  noble  face  was  so  kindly  and  the  blue  eyes  so 
smiling  that  the  inquisitive  children,  little  by  little, 
drew  towards  him  in  a  shambling,  ashamed  fashion, 
and  after  a  brief  interval  he  was  surrounded  by  a 
group  of  brown-skinned  urchins,  the  biggest  and  most 
elaborately  apparelled  of  whom  was  eight  years  old, 
and  possessed  of  a  hat,  a  shirt,  and  a  pair  of  breeches, 
whilst  the  youngest  was  only  about  four  and  was 
clothed  in  a  "  complete  frog  suit,"  as  the  Spaniards 
say,  or,  to  talk  in  plain  English,  as  naked  as  he  was 
born. 

Fourteen  brown  fingers  were  being  steadily  sucked 
and  twenty-eight  eyes  looked  steadily  towards  the 
Jesuit's  upraised  hand. 

"  Which  of  you  cast  this  first  stone  ? "  asked  Padre 
Ignacio.  Thirteen  brown  fingers  immediately  indicated 
the  culprit. 

1 08 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  Look  !  "  said  the  priest,  "  what  thy  stone  has  turned 
to,"  and  he  handed  him  a  small  bronze  coin.  All  eyes 
were  now  opened  very  wide. 

"  Where  fell  the  second  stone  ?  "  asked  the  priest. 

The  chorus  of  fingers  here  indicated  its  resting  place 
with  the  utmost  candour. 

Padre  Ignacio  strode  onwards  and,  stooping  down 
rapidly,  lifted  his  hand  aloft  once  more.  This  time 
something  was  seen  to  glitter  in  the  sunshine  like 
burnished  silver. 

"  Who  cast  this  second  stone  at  me  ? " 

This  time  there  was  a  riot,  fully  eight  voices  claiming 
to  have  done  the  deed. 

The  priest  selected  the  nearest  hand,  and  placed 
therein  a  new  two-real  piece  of  silver,  saying  — 

"  Look  what  thy  stone  has  turned  to." 

After  the  excitement  had  somewhat  subsided,  Padre 
Ignacio  glanced  over  the  various  hands,  and  perceiving 
that  the  youngster  in  frog's  clothing  still  held  a  pebble, 
he  feigned  to  be  much  concerned,  and,  wringing  his 
hands,  cried  in  a  voice  of  anguish  — 

"  Drop  that  pebble,  child ;  thou  knowest  not  what 
thou  dost." 

The  child  let  fall  the  stone,  and  commenced  to  cry. 

"  Have  you  heard,"  asked  Padre  Ignacio,  addressing 
the  group  in  general,  "  have  you  heard  what  happened 
to  the  children  that  cast  stones  at  San  Oportuno  ? " 

Silence. 

"  The  first  stone  they  cast  at  him,"  said  the  priest, 
looking  very  serious,  "became  a  coin  of  bronze.  The 
second  stone,"  he  continued  after  a  pause,  and  raising 
his  voice  to  a  majestic  chant,  "  became  a  coin  of 
silver —  " 

Then,  in  a  hoarse  whisper,  he  leant  towards  the  chil- 
dren with  a  frown,  and  asked  — 

109 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  But  know  ye  what  happened  to  the  one  that  threw 
the  third  ?  " 

No  one  knew. 

"  No  !  "  thundered  the  priest.  "  None  of  ye  know. 
Ask  of  your  mothers  and  fathers  and  they  will  not  tell 
you.  And  why  ?  Because  they  dare  not." 

Saying  which,  he  gathered  his  gown  around  him  and 
calmly  strode  away. 

The  group  watched  his  departure  in  silence. 

Presently  the  oldest  of  the  desperadoes  spoke. 

"  I  don't  believe  anything  would  happen  at  all." 

"  No  !  "  cried  another  quickly.     "  Nor  I." 

"  Let's  throw  one  and  try,"  proposed  a  third,  keeping 
his  hands  tightly  folded  behind  his  back. 

"  I  know  what  would  happen  to  the  one  who  threw 
the  third  stone,"  remarked  the  pessimist  of  the  party 
mysteriously. 

"What?  "  cried  the  others,  gathering  round  him. 

"  His  arm  would  wither  up." 

This,  by  some,  was  jeered  at,  but  there  were  others 
who  held  their  peace. 

"  If,"  cried  the  wit  of  the  party,  "  the  first  stone  turns 
to  copper  and  the  second  to  silver,  why,  clearly  the  third 
would  turn  to  gold." 

"  Clearly  !  "  shouted  half  a  dozen  voices.  "  Then  let's 
throw  one  and  try." 

But  nobody  raised  his  hand. 

Then  the  second  oldest  boy,  who  hitherto  had  not 
spoken,  called  out  that  the  Jesuit  being  already  out  of 
reach,  the  most  sensible  thing  to  do  was  to  go  and  spend 
the  little  they  had  got,  and  with  a  resounding  war-whoop 
the  crowd  went  scampering  up  the  beach  towards  the 
village,  and  reinforcements  having  joined  them,  a  thick 
cloud  of  dust  was  presently  seen  along  the  high  road 
careering  madly  away  upon  some  six  and  thirty  feet. 

no 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

The  Jesuit  noted  this  phenomenon  with  a  quiet  smile 
of  satisfaction,  and  reaching  the  firm  damp  sand,  pur- 
sued his  way  along  the  water's  edge,  his  hands  folded 
behind  him,  and  bending  his  head  in  thought. 

So  absorbed  was  the  good  father  with  his  meditation 
that  after  walking  half  a  mile  he  almost  collided  with 
another  individual  who  carried  an  open  book  and  whose 
pallid  careworn  countenance  and  great  white  eyeballs 
confronted  him  in  mute  surprise  when  he  came  to  a 
sudden  standstill. 

The  figure  before  him  was  lank  and  lean,  and  the 
clean-shaven  face  possessed  that  stubbly  blackness 
which  renders  some  men  darker  when  fresh  from  the 
barber's  hands  than  others  who  have  not  shaved  for 
more  than  a  week. 

The  clothes  were  mended  and  re-mended,  and  the 
whole  attire  betokened  the  most  penurious  respecta- 
bility. 

It  was  the  village  schoolmaster,  the  day  being  one  of 
many  "  feast "  days. 

For  his  portion  of  the  "feast"  the  man  of  learning 
carried  a  small  wooden  toothpick  behind  his  ear,  and, 
thus  equipped,  was  ready  for  any  sudden  emergency  of 
eating. 

Thus  unexpectedly  confronting  each  other,  the  two 
strangers  bowed  and  passed  the  time  of  day,  and  fell 
into  friendly  conversation. 

"  I  will  not  disguise  from  you,"  said  the  school- 
master at  length,  "  that  I  know  who  you  are." 

"  You  surprise  me,"  exclaimed  the  priest,  elevating 
his  eyebrows  ;  "  and  pray,  sir,  whom  have  I  the  honour 
of  addressing  ? " 

The  schoolmaster  waved  his  hand  round  in  a  circle 
to  indicate  the  horizon  of  sea  and  land,  and  made 
answer  — 

in 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  You  are  speaking,  sir,  to  the  hungriest  individual  in 
all  this  vast  domain.  Thus,  sir,  does  society  repay  the 
scholar  and  philosopher." 

"  Alas !  "  said  the  Jesuit,  "  we  have  much  in  common. 
I  take  you  to  be  the  schoolmaster  of  this  pueblo  ?  The 
Company  of  Jesus,  sir,  has  ever  devoted  itself  to  the 
education  of  the  young ;  its  cry,  unlike  that  of 
the  clergy,  has  been  '  Onward.'  The  Company  for- 
mulated the  very  first  methods  used  in  the  National 
Schools  of  Spain ;  they  control,  at  present,  the  educa- 
tional system  of  France,  which  they  have  completely 
re-modelled.  I  am  vain  enough,  sir,  to  couple  my  name 
with  yours,  and  to  claim  that  men  like  you  and  me  are 
the  creators  of  thought  and  character,  the  moulders  of 
the  young  idea,  the  potters  to  whom  is  given  a  mass 
of  shapeless  clay  wherewith  to  fashion  a  mind.  And 
we  do  it,  sir,  we  do  it.  And  what  is  our  reward  ?  " 

"Well  might  you  ask!  "  sighed  the  schoolmaster. 

"  Our  reward,  my  dear  sir,  is  this,"  continued  the 
Jesuit,  threading  his  arm  familiarly  through  that  of  his 
companion.  "  You  are  paid  a  miserable  pittance,  ridicu- 
lously trivial  in  comparison  with  the  work  performed, 
whilst  /am  exiled  and  sent  to  wander  in  foreign  lands." 

"  How  true !  "  replied  the  other,  delighted  to  be  thus 
treated  by  one  who  bore  those  marks  of  superiority  and 
eminence  in  his  face  and  speech  which  no  one  might 
gainsay.  Indeed,  half  of  men's  hatred  for  the  Jesuits 
arises  from  envy  of  their  distinction.  And  continuing 
his  conversation,  Padre  Ignacio  accompanied  the  school- 
master along  the  margin  of  the  lazy  water  for  nearly 
half  an  hour,  leaving  the  simple  man  bewitched  with 
his  condescension,  humility,  and  grace. 

At  length  they  parted. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  the  Jesuit,  clasping  his  hand, 
"your  conversation  has  charmed  me.  I  had  not 

112 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

thought  to  be  so  fortunate.  When  one  remembers 
that  this  village  is  a  thousand  miles  away  from  the 
great  universities  of  Leipsic,  Paris,  and  Vienna,  and  to 
find  —  bless  me,  good-bye,  sir,  I  look  fonvard  to  meet- 
ing you  again." 

The  schoolmaster  flourished  his  most  elegant  fare- 
well. 

"  By  the  way,"  remarked  Padre  Ignacio,  smiling, 
"  you  might  mention  to  the  good  priest  of  the  parish, 
Don  —  " 

"  Don  Francisco  Lopez." 

"Don  Francisco,  that  if  perchance  this  evening  at 
the  dinner  hour  he  should  be  able  to  bend  his  steps  in 
the  direction  of  my  humble  inn,  the  Fonda  del  Trini,  I 
have  a  few  words  to  say  to  him." 

"  With  much  pleasure,  and  I  kiss  your  hands." 

The  schoolmaster  turned  his  face  towards  the  village 
and,  humming  a  tune  for  the  first  time  that  week,  he 
disappeared  along  the  high  road  and  sought  out  the 
parish  priest. 

That  worthy  received  the  invitation  with  pretended 
scorn,  yet  it  cost  him  trouble  to  suppress  his  gratifica- 
tion. As  for  his  curiosity,  it  was  as  evident  as  the  nose 
upon  his  face,  which  is  saying  much. 

At  first  he  refused  to  go,  but  the  schoolmaster  per- 
suaded him  with  such  glowing  praise  of  the  Jesuit's 
urbanity  that  the  poor  priest  gave  way  with  much  ap- 
parent reluctance  and  assented  with  the  very  worst  grace 
he  could  possibly  command. 

"  This  Jesuit  has  bewitched  thee,"  said  the  priest  ban- 
teringly  as  he  bade  the  schoolmaster  good-bye  in  the 
cobbler's  doorway. 

"  Nay,"  replied  the  schoolmaster,  "  but  he  is  the  only 
man  who  has  ever  shown  signs  of  appreciating  me." 

"  That  is  to  say,  he  has  plied  thee  with  flattery." 
i  113 


"  j  Hombre  !  The  compliment  pleases  me.  Thy  Bible 
says  that  a  man  is  never  a  prophet  in  his  own  country." 

"  I  will  answer  thee  from  thy  own  copy-books,"  re- 
plied the  priest.  "  Thy  Jesuit  reminds  me  of  the  prov- 
erb, '  Too  much  courtesy,  too  much  craft.'  " 

And  climbing  once  more  the  bare  brick  staircase 
whose  treads  were  edged  with  oak,  the  priest  called  out 
to  his  ancient  servant  that  she  need  not  cook  more  beans 
for  the  evening  meal  than  she  wanted  for  herself,  and 
as  for  the  few  sardines  they  had  better  be  eaten  now ; 
more  was  the  pity  he  had  bought  them. 

Those  were  the  days  when  old  Spanish  customs  as  to 
the  hours  for  breakfasting  and  dining  were  still  in  vogue 
and  the  meal  of  the  day  was  taken  at  twelve  or  one. 
People  retired  to  rest  at  ten  o'clock  or  even  nine. 
French  customs,  however,  were  gradually  cropping  up  in 
families  who  wished  to  be  thought  well  travelled  and 
refined. 

Thus  it  was  that  if  a  man  asked  you  to  dine  you  knew 
not  whether  to  present  yourself  at  noon  or  eventide 
unless  he  added  "Spanish  time"  or  "French  time." 

Padre  Ignacio  had  set  this  doubt  at  rest  by  mention- 
ing the  evening. 

Arrived  at  the  Fonda  del  Trini,  the  Jesuit  priest  came 
forward  courteously  to  greet  the  village  priest  and 
begged  him  to  be  seated. 

Two  little  wine  glasses  were  brought  to  them  on  a 
tray,  and  beside  the  glasses  stood  a  bottle  of  curious 
shape. 

"Allow  me,"  said  Padre  Ignacio  presently,  rising  with 
a  smile  and  taking  up  the  bottle,  "  to  initiate  you  into  one 
of  our  Northern  vices.  Give  me  your  frank  opinion." 

Whereupon  the  Jesuit  filled  the  two  glasses  from  the 
bottle,  and  having  tasted  his  own  portion,  sat  awaiting 
the  verdict  of  the  priest. 

114 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  It  is  not  bad,"  conceded  the  latter ;  "it  reminds  me  of 
spirit  of  Geneva." 

"Your  discernment  is  not  to  be  cheated,"  laughed  the 
Jesuit.  "  As  a  matter  of  fact,  this  liquor  is  twin  brother 
to  the  spirit  you  mention.  Yet  it  belongs  to  a  special 
class,  made  only  in  the  Low  Countries,  and  hitherto 
untasted,  I  believe,  in  Southern  Spain.  I  beg  you  to 
have  some  more." 

The  village  priest  held  out  his  empty  glass  and  drew 
it  back  replenished. 

"  The  Dutch  are  a  wonderful  people,"  remarked  the 
guest. 

"  How  very  true  !  "  murmured  Padre  Ignacio,  shaking 
his  head. 

"  A  marvellous  people,  sir,"  continued  the  other  with 
emphasis. 

"Which  of  their  characteristics  were  you  dwelling 
upon  ? "  asked  Padre  Ignacio  with  artless  interest. 

"On  their  —  j  vaya!  —  "  The  village  priest  paused 
somewhat  at  a  loss,  and  then  went  on,  "  Are  they  not 
the  people  who  produce  the  famous  round  cheese  ?  " 

"  Quite  right,  quite  right !  It  is  a  cheese  of  much 
merit." 

"  And  have  they  not  invented  a  special  kind  of  linen, 
and  a  method  of  binding  books  ?  " 

"  Correct  to  the  letter !  " 

"  And  were  they  not  —  er  —  " 

"  The  Dutch,"  said  Padre  Ignacio,  coming  to  his 
relief,  "were  the  people,  as  you  will  recollect,  whom 
it  cost  us  some  eighty  years  to  conquer,  and  I  fear 
that  our  conquest  was  stained  with  no  little  savagery, 
thanks  to  the  Duke  of  Alva.  Their  dogged  pertinacity 
has  aroused  the  admiration  of  the  whole  inhabited 
globe.  Whether  in  battling  with  the  Spaniards  by 
land,  with  the  English  by  sea,  or  with  Nature  along 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

their  dykes  and  water-ways,  they  have  shown  a  courage, 
a  genius,  and  an  endurance  which  —  but  I  interrupt 
you,  I  anticipate  you  ? " 

"  Yes,  you  have  taken  the  words  out  of  my  mouth," 
said  the  other  with  a  forgiving  smile. 

"  Pardon  me  !  " 

"  There  is  nothing  to  forgive !  " 

The  two  priests  bowed  to  one  another,  and  the  land- 
lord of  the  Fonda,  having  spread  the  cloth,  placed  two 
bowls  of  soup  in  front  of  them,  together  with  bread  and 
condiments. 

"  Honour  me  by  asking  a  blessing  on  the  food,"  said 
Padre  Ignacio. 

"Nay,  that  pertains  to  you,  my  dear  sir,"  replied  the 
priest 

"  Indeed,  now  —  " 

"  Certainly  not  —  " 

"I  beg  of  you  — " 

"  I  could  not  think  of  it." 

Eventually  the  Jesuit  persuaded  his  companion  to 
accept  this  post  of  honour. 

Then  arose  a  struggle  over  the  wine,  which  was 
more  prolonged.  The  Jesuit,  however,  was  obdurate. 
His  guest  must  choose  or  the  wine  must  remain  un- 
drunk. 

The  village  priest  having  chosen  a  certain  Amon- 
tillado, the  Jesuit  was  loud  in  its  praise. 

"I  perceive,"  said  he,  "that  I  am  dealing  with  a 
connoisseur." 

"  You  flatter  me,"  said  the  other  with  a  modest 
smile. 

"  Indeed,  I  have  never  tasted  such  wine,"  protested 
Padre  Ignacio. 

"It  is  a  wine,"  said  the  priest,  "that  I  know  better 
by  repute  than  by  experience.  Alas !  I  am  but  a  lowly 

116 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

shepherd,  and  such  Amontillado  as  this  has  seldom 
passed  my  lips." 

The  Jesuit  regarded  him  for  a  moment  with  a  look 
of  the  keenest  sympathy ;  then,  calling  to  the  landlord, 
bade  him  send  off  a  dozen  bottles  of  the  Amontillado 
to  the  house  of  the  priest. 

"Nay,"  cried  the  other,  "you  put  me  to  shame. 
Surely  you  did  not  suspect  me  of  fishing  for  — " 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  Padre  Ignacio  reproachfully. 

"  Indeed,  it  is  too  good  of  you  —  " 

"  If,"  continued  the  Jesuit,  "  your  pride  does  not  lie 
in  the  way  of  accepting  so  worthless  a  tribute  of  my  re- 
spect, I  beg  that  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  make 
no  more  mention  of  it.  What  have  we  here  ?  Chicken 
and  rice  once  more  !  Dear  me  !  I  fear  that  you  must  be 
very  weary  of  such  dishes." 

"  Indeed,  no  !  "  returned  the  priest,  looking  hard  at  the 
chicken. 

Soup,  chicken,  and  sweets  having  each  received  atten- 
tion, the  host  and  guest  were  eventually  left  alone  with 
their  cigarettes  and  coffee,  and  the  wine  having  warmed 
the  cockles  of  the  village  priest's  heart,  he  gradually 
became  communicative,  and  volunteered  much  useful 
information. 

"  There  is  one  point,"  said  the  Jesuit  at  length,  "  upon 
which  I  should  desire  some  little  enlightenment.  It 
appears  that  one  Don  Antonio  Nieto,  who  went  away 
some  ten  or  twelve  years  ago,  left  behind  him  his  cast- 
off  mistress." 

"  Ah,  that,"  replied  the  other,  "  is  indeed  a  pitiful  case." 

"  So  I  believe,"  continued  Padre  Ignacio,  without  be- 
traying any  emotion.  "  It  were  useless  for  me  to  dis- 
guise from  you  that  Don  Antonio  had,  up  to  the  time 
of  his  departure,  enjoyed  that  confidence  which  our 
Society  is  wont  to  repose  in  persons  of  apparent  re- 

117 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

spectability.  For  indeed  we  have  nothing  to  conceal. 
As  a  relation  of  Don  Antonio,  and  as  a  member  of  the 
Company  whose  reputation  he  held  of  so  little  account, 
I  naturally  take  no  small  interest,  you  understand,  in  the 
welfare  of  this  poor  creature." 

"  She  is  dead." 

"  You  shock  me !  "  said  the  Jesuit  with  a  raising  of 
the  eyebrows  and  a  sympathy  so  painfully  mechanical 
that  no  one  would  have  credited  him  with  a  heart. 
Then  he  continued  coldly  — 

"  If  that  be  so  the  matter  ends." 

"  Not  entirely.     There  are  children  living." 

"  So  there  are  children  !     And  how  many  ? " 

"Two." 

"  Girls  ? " 

"  No.     Both  of  them  boys." 

"  The  affair  is  becoming  interesting,"  said  Padre 
Ignacio,  with  a  smile,  and  drawing  his  chair  up  closer 
to  the  table.  "  Are  these  children  well  cared  for  ?  " 

"  Alas !  they  are  quite  the  reverse." 

"  Or  educated  ? " 

"  They  have  no  more  education  than  a  couple  of 
melons." 

"  Then,  sir,  in  the  few  idle  hours  that  lie  before  me 
day  by  day,  I  shall  make  it  my  duty  to  take  these  chil- 
dren in  hand." 

"  I  do  not  think  you  will  find  the  younger  very  anxious 
to  improve  himself." 

"Ah!" 

"  He  is,  I  believe,  a  little  ne'er-do-weel,  and  full  of 
mischief  and  foul  words.  The  elder,  on  the  other  hand, 
has  always  struck  me  as  —  " 

"Yes?" 

"  Has  always  appeared  to  be  ambitious.  He  has  a 
most  curious  disposition." 

118 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  Indeed!  "  rejoined  the  other.  And  for  fully  a  min- 
ute he  was  lost  in  thought. 

"  Of  course,"  continued  the  village  priest,  aiming  a 
puff  of  smoke  upwards  through  an  opening  in  the  vine, 
"  he  has  not  been  able  to  get  away  from  his  drudgery  to 
attend  the  daily  school." 

"Quite  so,"  replied  Padre  Ignacio  ;  then,  suddenly 
confronting  his  guest,  he  demanded  — 

"  The  woman's  last  confession,  to  whom  was  it 
uttered  ? " 

"Tome." 

"  Apart  from  that  confession,  whose  seal  I  would  not 
dare  to  ask  you  break,  did  you,  in  course  of  conversa- 
tion, ever  gather  that  this  woman  bore  resentment 
against  her  betrayer  ? " 

"  Oh,  no,"  replied  the  other  very  frankly.  "  She 
had  much  quiet  philosophy  in  her  constitution.  All 
knew  that  Don  Antonio  had  wronged  her  and  taken  her 
from  her  village  under  a  false  pretence.  That  she  did 
not  disguise.  For  the  rest  she  was  not  communicative." 

The  Jesuit's  blue  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  speaker 
with  a  look  of  eagerness  and  penetration.  Apparently 
he  felt  relieved,  and  saw  no  cause  to  doubt  the  village 
priest's  good  faith,  for  he  turned  his  gaze  elsewhere 
and  fell  to  pondering. 

"  Quite  outside  her  confession,"  volunteered  the 
priest,  "  she  left  a  little  casket  for  her  elder  child  when 
he  reaches  an  age  of  discretion." 

"  What  did  it  contain  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.  In  the  first  place,  it  is  sealed  up 
with  much  elaboration.  In  the  second,  it  is  probably 
some  useless  trifle  which  the  poor  wretch  doted  upon. 
It  could  not  be  very  valuable,  or  she  would  have  parted 
with  it.  I  have  held  many  such  curious  trusts  in  my 
time." 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE  SHRINE 

"A  sealed  casket!"  murmured  the  Jesuit  as  though 
in  soliloquy,  and  gazing  upwards  at  the  moon  that  was 
peeping  through  the  vine. 

After  a  few  moments  he  changed  the  subject,  and,  turn- 
ing to  his  companion,  said,  with  apparent  bluntness  — 

"  Do  you  know  that  your  presence  in  this  village  has 
caused  me  to  ponder.  You  may  have  noticed  my  ab- 
straction." 

"  I  have.  Why  should  my  presence  here  surprise 
you  ? " 

"  Tell  me,  in  confidence  now,"  said  the  Jesuit,  lean- 
ing forward,  "and  forgive  my  clumsiness  if,  inadver- 
tently, I  have  trodden  upon  forbidden  ground.  Have 
you  in  some  way  offended  the  powers  that  be  ? " 

"  Offended  the  powers  that  be  ?  "  repeated  the  village 
priest,  taking  his  cigarette  out  of  his  mouth  with  genu- 
ine astonishment. 

"  Yes.  Have  you  incurred  the  hatred  of  the  queen, 
or  trodden  upon  the  toes  of  the  primate  ?  Have  you 
quarrelled  with  some  minister  of  power?  Have  you 
implicated  yourself  with  some  forbidden  policy  ? " 

"  None  of  these  things  have  I  done,"  replied  the 
other,  opening  his  eyes  and  mouth  to  the  utmost  of 
their  capacity. 

The  Jesuit  drew  back  and  laughed  incredulously. 

"  Between  brothers  of  the  cloth,  now  ? "  he  said  at 
length. 

.  "  Indeed,"  replied  the  village  priest  in  all  good  faith, 
"  I  do  assure  you  that  I  have  never  given  offence  to  a 
living  soul  outside  the  boundary  of  this  village." 

"  Not  even  to  the  Bishop  of  Santa  Fe  ?  " 

"  Not  even  to  the  Bishop  of  Santa  Fe." 

"Then,  why,  sir,"  whispered  the  Jesuit,  drawing  very 
near  to  him  and  laying  one  hand  upon  his  knee,  "  why, 
sir,  are  you  here?" 

1 20 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

"  Ah-h-h !  "  sighed  the  priest  as  his  face  lighted  up 
with  sudden  intelligence.  "  It  surprises  you  that  I 
have  stuck  in  the  mud  in  Cinco  Caminos  all  these 
years,  eh  ? " 

"  All  these  years !  "  repeated  the  Jesuit,  shaking  his 
head. 

"  Well,  yes,  but  —  you  in  your  turn  surprise  me  also. 
How  is  it  that  your  knowledge  of  me  is  so  very  inti- 
mate ? " 

"  Do  you  suppose,"  replied  Padre  Ignacio  almost 
scornfully,  "that  your  movements  have  not  been  fol- 
lowed ? " 

"  Bless  me !  "  said  the  village  priest. 

The  other  put  his  hand  in  his  bosom  and  drew  out  a 
letter. 

"  To  whom  is  this  envelope  addressed  ?  "  asked  Padre 
Ignacio,  exhibiting  it. 

"  To  the  Bishop  of  Santa  Fe,  to  be  sure." 

"  It  is  my  letter  of  introduction  to  him.  In  due  course 
I  shall  present  it.  But  mark  this,  first  I  have  made  a 
point  of  consulting  you'' 

"  And  why  so  ?  " 

"  Because,"  replied  the  Jesuit,  patting  him  on  the 
knee  and  speaking  in  a  subdued  tone  with  much  ear- 
nestness, "  because  my  instructions  were  to  that  effect. 
That  is  my  simple  answer." 

The  village  priest  could  scarcely  believe  his  ears. 

At  length,  when  he  rose  to  go,  his  host  accompanied 
him  to  the  gate,  and,  buttonholing  him  for  a  moment, 
remarked  with  the  most  charming  grace  — 

"  Do  not  depart  without  accepting  my  thanks  for  all 
you  have  publicly  protested  in  our  behalf." 

"Oh,  as  for  that—  '  said  the  other  deprecatingly, 
with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 

"  Nay,  you  would  belittle  your  good  deeds,  you  would 
121 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

fain  hide  your  light  under  a  bushel.  I  feel  sure  that 
your  voice  has  ever  championed  our  cause,  and  I  were 
a  hog  if  I  did  not  render  thanks." 

"  Oh,  my  dear  sir,  it  is  a  mere  nothing." 

"  That  is  your  opinion.  Mine  is  different.  I  most 
heartily  thank  you  for  all  the  help  you  have  extended 
to  us,  for  all  the  good  words  you  have  spoken  on  our 
behalf,  and  I  venture,  with  confidence,  to  thank  you  in 
anticipation  for  favours  yet  to  come.  We  shall  not 
prove  ungrateful." 

"  Sir,"  replied  the  other,  much  moved,  and  resting  one 
hand  upon  the  Jesuit's  sleeve,  "  the  less  you  say  of  good 
services  in  the  past  the  better.  I  will  be  honest  with 
you.  Quite  unintentionally  you  have  shamed  me.  But 
from  the  bottom  of  my  heart  I  do  assure  you  that  what- 
ever humble  service  may  lie  within  my  power  in  future, 
whatever  my  duty  to  God  and  my  bishop  will  allow  me 
to  perform,  those  services  are  yours,  though  they  cost 
me  my  last  drop  of  blood.  Good  night,  sir,  and  God  be 
with  you." 

Whereupon  the  priest  turned  his  steps  homeward  along 
the  moonlit  road,  and  the  Jesuit  with  his  hands  behind 
his  back  stood  gazing  upward  at  the  firmament. 

"To  do  good,"  murmured  Padre  Ignacio,  "it  is  some- 
times necessary  to  deceive.  Deceit  is  nauseating,  but 
how  much  more  diplomacy  amongst  these  simple  people 
must  yet  be  planned  and  consummated  ! 

"Yonder  seven  stars  like  a  coach  and  horses  that 
looked  down  upon  us  in  Belgium  from  so  far,  here  seem 
to  have  approached  the  sombre  earth  until  they  almost 
hail  us. 

"  What  is  their  message  ?  I,  the  hypocrite,  skilled  in 
looking  into  men's  hearts  and  reading  their  secrets  with- 
out divulging  what  lies  hidden  in  my  own  most  heavy 
conscience,  might  I  not  also  be  a  plaything  in  my  turn  ? 

122 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

I  work  like  a  clock  because  I  am  wound  up.  And  the 
clock  that  ticks  away  so  merrily  would  go  just  as  well 
though  no  one  ever  looked  at  it.  Yonder  clockwork 
above  me  will  keep  on  moving  for  all  eternity,  though 
no  eye  see  it.  And  if  we  are  all  working  without  re- 
sult ?  If  the  watch  that  was  wound  up  to  keep  guard 
over  crafty  Time  lies  hidden  away  in  a  cupboard  and 
runs  down  without  ever  being  consulted,  if  the  stars  that 
fly  like  rockets  along  their  paths  are  spending  billions  of 
horse-power  to  no  purpose,  if  the  brain  that  toils  and  aches 
will  rot  just  as  unproductively,  when  all  is  told,  as  the 
upcast  and  solitary  oyster,  why  —  if  such  a  chaotic  mock- 
ery were  possible,  which  most  palpably  could  never  be, 
the  deceiver  himself  would  be  the  most  deceived,  and 
the  most  cunning  would  be  the  most  befooled. 

"  I,  who  inwardly  forgive  myself  my  clumsy  frauds 
because  I  feel  myself  one  step  more  proximate  to 
heaven  than  my  victim,  and  therefore  authorized  to 
entice  these  fools  the  way  that  my  Redeemer  and  my- 
self think  they  should  go,  if  from  beyond  the  tomb 
arose  a  voice  crying,  '  Of  all  these  creatures  whom 
thou  scornest  thou  art  the  most  easily  lured,  for  thy 
bait  is  nothingness,  thy  chase  is  a  vapid  conceit  of 
thy  shallow  imagination,'  what  then  would  be  my 
plight  ? 

"Alas,  how  unhappy  must  be  the  soul  that  thirsts 
all  in  vain  for  an  unknown  tangibility,  that  tries  to 
conceive  and  believe,  and  is  ever  frustrated! 

"  Almost  I  could  imagine  the  gloom  of  such  a  being, 
and  well  can  I  perceive  how  such  wickedness  would 
bear  its  own  chastisement." 

So  saying,  the  good  father  sauntered  back  to  the 
table  under  the  vine,  where  he  sat  gazing  at  the  moon- 
light shadows  of  the  leaves  upon  the  ground,  his  elbows 
on  his  knees,  and  his  chin  buried  in  his  hand.  Evidently 

123 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

he  was  a  prey  to  disjointed  thoughts,  for  at  times  he 
would  mutter  to  himself  — 

"  A  sealed  casket !  And  what  might  it  contain  ? 
Some  greatly  treasured  trinket  ?  Poor  girl !  Poor 
girl !  I  wonder,  is  he  dark  or  fair  ?  I  wonder,  is  he 
curly-haired  as  I  was  ?  Or  is  he  like  his  mother  ?  " 

Long  and  deep  were  his  meditations,  and  there  were 
signs  of  profound  emotion  in  his  bearing.  Once,  when 
he  raised  his  face  towards  the  beam  of  moonlight,  a 
something  shone  and  glistened  in  his  eyes,  then  trem- 
bled and  fell  to  the  ground. 

When  at  length  he  sought  his  bedchamber  it  was 
long  past  midnight 


124 


CHAPTER   IX 

"  And  think'st  thou,  man,  thy  secret  wish  to  shroud 

In  the  close  bosom's  sealed  sepulchre, 
Or,  wrapt  in  saintly  mantle  from  the  crowd, 
To  hug  thy  darling  sin  that  none  may  see  ?  " 

HEBER. 

ON  the  morrow  Padre  Ignacio  once  more  passed 
through  the  village,  and,  seeing  the  village 
priest  in  his  balcony,  stopped  to  give  him  good  morn- 
ing and  to  ask  him  one  or  two  questions,  which  the 
parochial  answered  with  willing  courtesy.  The  small 
fry  never  once  raised  their  arms  to  throw  a  stone,  and 
one  or  two  little  girls,  as  if  to  shame  the  reprobates  of 
yesterday,  ran  after  the  Jesuit  to  kiss  his  hand,  which 
smelt  of  Parisian  soap  and  felt  like  velvet,  whereas 
their  own  priest's  hands  were  horny  and  smelt  of  earth. 

The  village  priest  looked  on  silently  from  his  balcony, 
so  did  the  cobbler  from  his  doorstep  down  below. 

Leaving  the  village  and  passing  the  Fonda  del  Trim, 
Padre  Ignacio  made  for  a  little  tableland  which  over- 
looked the  sea.  It  was  sown  with  maize,  which  sighed 
and  whispered  with  the  dusty  breeze  coming  from  the 
road  towards  the  sea. 

Close  to  the  water,  on  the  edge  of  the  low  cliff,  was 
a  square  enclosure  with  four  whitewashed  walls.  A 
rude  iron  gate  which  faced  upon  the  road  was  sur- 
mounted by  an  archway  and  a  cross,  whitewashed 
and  glistening  like  the  walls.  In  the  middle  of  the  en- 
closure stood  a  small  shelter,  large  enough  to  hold  a 
coffin  and  half  a  dozen  mourners.  Scattered  around 

125 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

were  rude  gravestones  and  many  graves  without  any 
stone  at  all. 

One  of  the  four  walls  was  nearly  eight  feet  wide, 
being  honeycombed  with  niches.  Some  of  the  niches 
were  empty,  most  of  them  were  full,  bricked  up,  and 
with  inscriptions  on  the  end-stones.  There  were  some 
withered  wreaths  and  crosses,  not  many.  The  Jesuit 
stood  at  the  gate  and  found  it  locked.  The  cemetery 
was  deserted.  Walking  round  outside  the  enclosure 
he  came  to  a  point  where  a  mound  had  been  thrown 
against  the  wall,  and  he  found  it  easy  to  climb  inside. 

"  How  dreadful  and  how  real  is  the  aspect  of  these 
Southern  charnel  grounds,"  he  thought.  "What  moon- 
light or  what  dark  phantoms  could  affright  one  as  does 
this  little  cemetery  now  in  the  glare  of  day.  My  God  !  " 

He  stood  there  in  the  sun,  that  very  sun  whose 
ghastly  splendour  now  seemed  awful,  hungry,  and  cruel. 
He  watched  the  trembling  eddies  of  hot  air  rising  from 
the  graves  and  niches,  he  held  his  handkerchief  to  his 
nose,  and  his  head  swam.  In  one  corner  of  the  ceme- 
tery was  a  cypress.  He  went  towards  it  and  sat  down 
on  a  gravestone  beneath  its  shade. 

On  his  left  was  a  sepulchre,  the  only  one  to  be  seen. 
White-faced  and  half-fainting,  the  priest  turned  his  star- 
ing eyes  towards  the  stone  that  should  have  closed  it. 
It  had  been  carelessly  left  open,  or,  having  fallen  open, 
nobody  had  troubled  to  close  it.  The  three  slabs 
which  roofed  the  sepulchre  had  gaping  joints  between 
them  through  which  came  broad  sheets  of  sunlight  and 
fell  upon  a  coffin.  Something  seemed  to  be  moving 
in  this  coffin ! 

After  gazing  horrified  into  this  gloomy  vault  for 
several  minutes  he  at  length  made  out  a  rat,  which 
presently  came  to  the  opening  and  sniffed  and  stared 
at  him. 

126 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  My  God  !  My  God  !  "  cried  the  priest.  "  Can  it  be 
possible  ? " 

And  then,  after  a  pause  — 

"To  think  that  yon  coffin  in  its  sepulchre  is  the 
summit  of  honour  and  reverence  to  the  dead,  com- 
pared with  the  nameless  fate  that  awaited  her  poor 
bones.  Not  even  a  five-year  tenancy  of  a  niche,  not 
even  a  stone,  not  even  a  separate  mound !  Thrown  to 
corruption  in  the  grinning  earth,  not  for  duty's  sake, 
but  merely  because  it  is  not  meet  that  human  bones 
should  rot  and  fester  in  the  highway  as  do  the  bones 
of  animals  and  fish." 

After  a  while  he  grew  used  to  the  poisonous  air.  He 
compelled  himself  to  breathe  it,  and,  though  white  as  a 
ghost,  he  took  the  handkerchief  from  his  face.  Seek- 
ing another  corner  of  the  graveyard  he  paused  and 
looked  upon  the  ground. 

"  This  should  be  the  place !  "  he  muttered.  "  Here 
she  lies,  one  amongst  a  score,  where  I  should  lie  beside 
her!  My  corpse  should  have  lain  there  first  for  her 
poor  corpse  to  fall  across.  Oh !  the  horror  of  it ! " 

He  sank  upon  his  knees.  First  he  prayed  to  Heaven 
for  forgiveness,  then  he  looked  down  and  spoke  to  the 
putrid  earth. 

"  Poor  partner  of  my  sin,  soon  may  I  be  suffering 
the  same  ignominy  of  corruption !  God  knows  that 
I  little  dreamed  what  fate  awaited  thee !  I  had  pic- 
tured thee  a  merry  wanton  —  God  forgive  me !  —  with 
gold  to  spend  and  silk  to  wear.  Lo !  This  stern  pic- 
ture that  God's  finger  silently  points  me  out  to  look 
upon.  Let  Him  punish  me  bitterly  for  my  sin  of  base 
neglect !  Now  my  eyes  are  opened,  now  too  late  I  see 
that  the  things  we  have  left  undone  are  yet  more  awful 
than  the  things  that  we  have  done.  Perhaps  it  was 
Heaven's  will  that  I  should  only  be  spared  to  look  on 

127 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

this  my  handiwork  before  my  own  obliteration.     So  be 

it!" 

******** 

He  was  very  moved.  Gradually  he  became  calmer, 
closed  his  eyes  again  in  prayer,  then,  rising  from  his 
knees,  he  left  the  cemetery,  looking  back  with  horror 
and  contrition  once  or  twice,  his  face  still  ashen. 

"  The  dead !  "  he  exclaimed  as  he  went  towards  the 
beach,  descending  the  rocky  staircase  on  the  face  of  the 
little  cliff.  "Alas!  On  this  side  of  purgatory  what 
can  I  do  ?  Even  masses  —  " 

He  bitterly  shook  his  head. 

Trudging  over  the  shingle  towards  that  flat  portion 
of  the  land  where  the  beach  is  but  little  lower  than  the 
village,  Padre  Ignacio  took  more  than  half  an  hour  to 
reach  the  point  where  two  groups  of  fishermen  were 
pulling  in  the  nets. 

With  his  hands  behind  his  back  he  wandered  to  and 
fro,  his  eyes  lighting  upon  every  one  in  turn.  There 
were  many  loungers  present,  drawn  by  curiosity,  and 
nobody  paid  attention  to  the  priest,  for  that  critical 
moment  had  arrived  when  the  excited  fishermen  hauled 
in  the  belly  of  the  net,  singing,  dancing,  and  shouting. 
This  morning  they  had  a  miraculous  draught  of  fishes, 
in  spite  of  the  evil  eye  upon  them,  and  those  who 
had  muttered  curses  on  the  priest  when  they  saw  him 
approach  (for  priests  are  unlucky  when  the  nets  are 
coming  in)  now  forgot  him  and  helped  the  Prowman 
and  Basket  Captains  to  gather  up  the  wriggling  boque- 
r6nes. 

Of  all  eyes  there  present  Padre  Ignacio's  were  the 
only  pair  that  never  once  looked  upon  the  draught  of 
fishes.  Over  and  over  again  he  was  saying  to  himself, 
"  Yonder  is  bone  of  my  bone  and  flesh  of  my  flesh." 

And  his  gaze  was  riveted  upon  the  face  of  El  Chopo, 
128 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

who  was  watching  the  little  crowd  around  the  net  with 
silent  interest. 

Presently  the  fishermen  beckoned  him  to  approach, 
and  he  led  forward  his  donkey  and  helped  them  fill  the 
panniers. 

Padre  Ignacio,  as  soon  as  this  took  place,  hurriedly 
left  the  beach  and  made  for  the  distant  road,  so  that 
when  El  Chopo  came  cantering  past  upon  his  donkey 
the  priest  waylaid  him  unseen  by  the  crowd  upon  the 
beach. 

"  Stop  !  "  called  the  Jesuit,  holding  up  his  hand, 
and  the  youth,  astonished  at  this  unwonted  summons, 
checked  his  beast  and  looked  at  the  stranger  from 
head  to  foot. 

"What  is  your  name,  lad?" 

"  El  Chopo." 

"  That  is  not  a  Christian  name.  What  do  they  call 
you  besides  ? "  , 

"  El  Chopo,  nothing  else "  (with  a  shrug  of  the 
shoulders). 

So  long  and  fixedly  did  the  priest  look  up  into  his 
face  that  the  youth  felt  somewhat  embarrassed.  At 
length  Padre  Ignacio  collected  himself  and  said  in  as 
matter-of-fact  a  way  as  could  be  — 

"I  am  a  Jesuit  priest  and  I  have  met  your  father. 
Come  to  me  this  evening  at  the  Fonda  del  Trini  about 
six  o'clock  and  bring  your  brother.  I  have  that  to 
say  to  both  of  you  that  may  be  of  interest.  How  do 
you  sell  your  fish  ? " 

The  lad  paused  for  a  moment  with  his  blue  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  blue  eyes  of  the  priest,  then  answered  — 

"  A  real  and  a  half  the  pound." 

"  And  how  many  pounds  might  you  be  carrying  ? " 
said   the   priest,  coming   close   up   to   him   and   never 
taking  his  eyes  off  the  boy's  face. 
K  129 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"One  and  a  half  arrobas,  more  or  less." 

"  Then  how  much  is  the  whole  lot  worth  ? " 

"About  fifty-six  reals,"  replied  the  other,  after  paus- 
ing for  half  a  minute  and  working  his  fingers  very 
rapidly. 

"  Well  done !  "  said  the  priest.  "  Then  this,  I  sup- 
pose,  would  pay  for  it?"  and  he  thrust  a  golden  onza 
into  the  lad's  hand  and  strode  away. 

It  was  now  El  Chopo's  turn  to  call  a  halt 

"  I  cannot  give  you  change ;  give  me  a  smaller 
piece." 

"Take  it  and  keep  it,"  called  the  priest  over  his 
shoulder. 

"  Nay,  but  where  shall  I  leave  your  fish  ? "  shouted 
El  Chopo,  much  concerned. 

Padre  Ignacio  paused,  turned  round,  and  came  back 
a  step  or  two.  Then,  with  a  smile,  and  as  if  a  happy 
idea  had  just  occurred  to  him,  "Take  them,"  said  he, 
"  to  the  schoolmaster  of  Cinco  Caminos.  Leave  them 
with  my  compliments,  and  beg  his  acceptance  of  a 
present  of  newly-caught  fish." 

"And  the  golden  onza?" 

"  What  of  it  ? " 

"  What  am  I  to  do  with  so  much  money  ? " 

"  Change  it  in  the  town,  pay  fifty-six  reals  to  the 
fishermen,  and  divide  what  remains  between  your 
brother  and  yourself.  Let  each  buy  whatever  pleases 
him  best.  Till  this  evening  !  " 

And  the  good  man  pursued  his  way  towards  the 
village  with  a  resolution  which  forbade  any  further 
compromise.  The  lad  and  the  priest  passed  the  day  in 
thinking  of  each  other,  and  each  after  his  own  fashion. 

El  Chopo  was  somewhat  perplexed,  yet  filled  with 
a  glow  of  anticipation.  He  knew  that  his  father  had 
been  a  gentleman,  but  never  had  fully  informed  himself 

130 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

as  to  details.  Whenever  he  began  to  inquire,  his  ques- 
tions drew  forth  answers  which  were  grotesque  in  their 
impossibility,  for  time  had  daubed  truth  with  a  vivid 
pigment  of  lies.  Those  who  were  hungry  for  romance 
whispered  in  his  ear  that  he  was  the  bye-blow  of  a 
prince,  whilst  those  who  were  ill-disposed  swore  that 
the  two  of  them  were  begotten  of  the  Evil  One  in  the 
mountains.  Few  remembered  Don  Antonio  Nieto,  and 
less  were  certain  of  his  name. 

Padre  Ignacio,  for  his  part,  climbed  up  the  road 
that  wends  past  the  Jesuit  College  (then  deserted),  and 
seating  himself  in  the  shade  of  an  olive  tree  he  gave 
himself  up  to  a  thrill  of  joyous  emotion. 

"The  eyes,"  said  he,  "are  mine!  The  hair  is  mine! 
The  forehead  and  nose  are  mine !  The  irlouth  and  chin 
are  hers.  God  !  What  a  handsome  youth  and  what  a 
goodly  vision ! " 

Any  one  who,  passing  by,  had  seen  the  good  man's 
beaming  face  would  have  thought  that  he  had  caught  a 
sudden  glimpse  of  Paradise.  His  features  seemed  to 
reflect  some  heavenly  glory.  Then  passed  a  cloud  and 
threw  its  shadow  across  the  hill,  and  his  face  grew  fixed 
and  melancholy  as  it  turned  towards  a  far-off  white 
enclosure,  down  to  the  right  hand  among  the  maize 
fields  by  the  sea. 

"  Yet  what  right  have  I  to  dote  upon  it  ?  Is  it  not 
my  sin  ?  What  was  I  saying  only  an  hour  ago?  "  He 
shuddered  and  turned  pale  at  the  thought  of  yonder 
horror. 

"  But  who  is  to  know  ?  Who  is  to  guess  that  Sir 
Priest  is  no  other  than  Sir  Hypocrite  ?  This  is  a  cloak 
that  might  cover  a  multitude  of  sins  ! 

"Nay,  for  shame!  There  are  other  eyes  and  ears 
than  those  of  humanity,  if  what  we  learn  be  true ;  and 
even  were  there  none,  am  I  so  fallen  away  from  grace 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

as  deliberately  to  accept  such  pitiful  conditions  ?  Shall 
I  steal  freely  of  all  fruit  save  that  which  the  gardener 
has  his  eyes  upon?  Poor,  roguish  Flesh,  born  with 
the  instinct  to  err !  If  only  Conscience  lose  sight  of 
him  for  an  instant,  in  that  instant  he  has  damned  him- 
self and  Conscience  too.  Why,  then,  did  the  Almighty 
box  up  Conscience  in  so  miserable  a  shell  ? 

"  Come,  let  us  examine  into  it.  Here  are  three  paths 
to  choose  from. 

"  First,  to  avoid  this  pretty  youth  as  though  he  were 
a  thief.  That  were  cowardly,  despicable,  and  even 
monstrous.  Alas!  I  have  shown  enough  neglect  al- 
ready, and  what  terrible  havoc  it  has  wrought !  What 
right  have  I  to  avoid  him  ?  Have  I  not  done  him  as 
bitter  wrong  as  a  father  may  do  to  his  son  ?  And 
if  so,  I  should  atone,  I  should  place  my  well-being, 
my  very  life,  at  his  service,  regardless  of  all  conse- 
quences to  myself.  No !  To  avoid  him  is  impossible. 
God  forbid ! 

"  Second,  to  satisfy  my  new-born  longing  for  the  boy, 
and  honestly  to  rejoice  in  that  which  the  Lord  has  seen 
fit  to  give  me.  To  what  end  ?  For  my  own  selfish 
gratification  ?  That  I  may  gloat  over  the  outcome  of 
my  sin  ?  That  I  may  forget,  in  the  joy  of  possessing 
him,  the  beggary,  misery,  and  death  that  have  been 
paid  by  another  as  his  price  ?  And  does  the  Lord  give 
him  to  me  ?  Does  He  hold  this  forth  as  my  reward  for 
the  offence  which  I  have  committed  in  His  sight  ?  Does 
He  not  rather  give  me  to  the  lad  for  what  I  am  worth  ? 
Give  him  to  me,  indeed !  Why,  this  is  a  yet  more  fool- 
ish hypothesis  than  the  first. 

"  Tliird,  neither  to  seek  him  nor  avoid  him.  To  be 
with  him  only  to  aid  him.  To  give  him  the  assistance 
of  my  poor  knowledge.  To  atone,  so  far  as  I  may,  for 
the  injury  I  did  him  in  begetting  him.  To  tear  myself 

132 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

away  from  him  whenever  I  find  that  I  am  merely  grati- 
fying my  own  instincts  without  rendering  him  good  ser- 
vice. For  he  is  the  outcome  of  my  sin,  and  woe  unto 
the  man  that  rejoices  in  the  fruits  of  his  own  crime ! " 
Anon  the  sun  burst  forth  in  boisterous  merriment, 
and  a  muleteer  down  below  in  the  King's  highway  let 
loose  his  soul  in  song. 

"  She  is  one  and  I  am  one : 

Two  were  one  an  they  had  wed. 

Since  her  vows  have  come  to  nought, 

One  and  one  are  two  instead."  x 

A  grasshopper  hard  by  listened  in  silence  to  this 
sentiment,  then  loudly  chirped  approval,  as  who  should 
say  the  case  was  just  his  own. 

These  cheerful  developments  made  themselves  felt 
by  the  Jesuit,  and  so  subtle  is  the  essence  of  a  sunbeam 
that  he  shook  off  his  heaviness  and  yielded  to  pleasant 
fancies. 

" '  Sin,'  said  I !  If  this  gallant  youth  be  sin,  why, 
Sin  is  not  so  ugly  as  I  thought  him.  Sin  should  wear 
a  more  forbidding  aspect,  should  go  blear-eyed,  hunch- 
backed, and  hobbling,  with  a  bill,  '  Know  all  men  by 
these  presents.'  But  this  child  of  sin  fills  me  with  glad- 
ness, and  his  face  almost — 'almost,'  I  say  —  rebukes 
me  for  rebuking  myself.  God  cannot  mean  me  to  la- 
ment the  bringing  into  being  so  brave  a  creature,  else, 
surely,  He  had  never  lent  His  face  to  his  conception. 
And  if  God  forbid  me  not,  why  not  rejoice  ? " 

Then  his  thoughts,  returning  to  the  woman  and  the 
penalty  she  had  paid,  plunged  him  once  more  into  bit- 
terness ;  anon  he  grew  light-hearted  once  again,  and 
thus  his  mood  went  see-saw  up  and  down,  so  great  was 
the  stirring  up  that  the  sight  of  the  lad  had  given  him. 

1  From  the  Spanish. 
133 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

When  evening  came  Padre  Ignacio  stood  awaiting 
the  two  boys  at  the  entrance  to  the  Fonda  del  Trini. 

He  led  them  in  through  the  Fonda  and  out  at  the 
back,  with  a  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  each,  and  made 
them  sit  at  the  table  on  either  side  of  him,  barefooted 
though  they  were. 

"  So  this  is  your  brother  ? "  he  asked,  looking  hard 
at  Pelao.  "And  what  have  you  bought  with  your 
money,  both  of  you  ? " 

El  Chopo  had  bought  himself  a  new  pair  of  breeches 
and  a  spelling  book. 

"That,"  said  the  priest  approvingly,  "  combines  utility 
and  instruction." 

Pelao  had  bought  himself  a  knife,  a  pistol,  and  a 
pound  of  lollipops. 

"That,"  remarked  their  host,  "is  a  combination  of 
strength  and  sweetness,  and  puts  me  in  mind  of  Samson 
and  the  lion." 

"  Who  was  Samson  ?  "  asked  El  Chopo. 

"A  mighty  man  of  valour,  who  slew  thousands  of 
men  with  the  jawbone  of  an  ass." 

"  Do  you  believe  it  ?  " 

"  j  Hombre  !  "  returned  the  Jesuit,  looking  at  him  with 
much  curiosity,  "  such  a  thing  is  possible." 

The  lad  met  his  gaze,  intent  upon  gathering  his  con- 
victions. Pelao,  for  his  part,  sat  there  like  a  log  of 
wood,  being  utterly  abashed. 

Not  so  El  Chopo,  who  seemed  to  lack  self-conscious- 
ness. His  interest  in  the  whole  world  external  to  him- 
self was  indeed  so  powerful  that  he  spent  not  a  moment 
in  useless  introspection  at  that  age  (being  about  fif- 
teen), and  perhaps  he  thought  that  others  were  much 
the  same. 

Both  of  the  lads  were  tall  and  well  developed,  and 
certainly  El  Chopo  looked  more  like  a  man  than  a  boy, 

134 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

yet  in  virtue  of  a  natural  grace  of  person  he  never  en- 
tered the  class  of  hobbledehoys.  Pelao  could  not  claim 
such  exemption. 

This  contrast  between  the  two  was  easily  noticeable 
throughout  the  meal.  Thus  it  was  that  though  both 
of  them  employed  their  fingers  pretty  liberally,  El 
Chopo,  after  a  while,  seeing  forks  were  more  in  fashion, 
made  shift  to  use  one.  Pelao,  on  the  other  hand,  man- 
aged to  smear  himself  with  gravy  up  to  the  eyes,  and 
furtively  wiped  his  hands  below  on  the  tablecloth,  so 
that  the  innkeeper's  wife,  who  was  easily  upset,  burst 
into  tears  when  they  showed  her  the  havoc  he  had 
wrought  and  the  slit  he  had  made  with  his  knife  in  saw- 
ing through  the  bread. 

The  plates,  however,  he  very  much  appreciated,  and 
deftly  manipulated  them  to  hide  his  evil  deeds,  not 
foreseeing  the  moment  when  the  landlord  would  whisk 
them  away  and  leave  him  to  face  his  many-coloured  guilt. 

During  the  meal  Padre  Ignacio  plied  the  lads  with 
questions,  eating  but  little  himself  and  keenly  watching 
his  guests  whenever  their  attention  was  taken  by  the 
well-served  dinner-table. 

When,  however,  the  cloth  was  cleared  and  novelty, 
like  bashf  ulness,  had  given  way  to  use,  El  Chopo  proved 
himself  no  meagre  questioner. 

"  You  said  you  had  seen  my  father  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  What  was  he  like  ?  " 

"Your  father,"  said  Padre  Ignacio,  "was  —  tall  and 
strong,  his  face  was  a  very  middling  one,  much  like  any 
other  face  one  meets  in  a  day's  march." 

"  What  sort  of  man  was  he  ?  " 

"  Why,  since  you  ask  me,  lad,  your  father  —  was 
neither  here  nor  there.  There  have  been  worse  men 
and  many  better." 

135 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  You  did  not  like  him  ?  " 

"  Nay,  I  assure  you  I  liked  him  very  well." 

"  Is  he  dead  ?  " 

"  Dead  !  Why,  look  you,  as  to  that,  now,  my  news 
of  him  is  none  of  the  newest.  I  think  it  were  safer  to 
reckon  him  dead." 

"  Why  did  he  leave  my  mother  ?  " 

During  this  catechism  the  good  priest  had  been  get- 
ting more  and  more  uncomfortable,  drumming  on  the 
table  with  his  fingers  and  looking  uneasily  around  him. 
At  this  point  he  rose  from  where  he  sat  and  gave  one 
or  two  turns  up  and  down  the  parral.  When  he  came 
back  he  allowed  no  time  for  repetition  of  the  question, 
but,  leaning  forward  upon  the  table  with  folded  arms, 
said  to  them  very  pleasantly  — 

"  And  now  let  me  tell  you  why  you  are  here  to-night. 
Your  father  having  been  a  good  friend  to  the  Jesuits, 
and  I  myself  having  an  hour  a  day  to  spare  for  the 
next  few  months,  I  bethought  me  that  perhaps  I  might 
return  a  little  kindness  in  such  ways  as  lay  in  my  power. 
I  am  no  magician,  I  cannot  say  '  Presto  ! '  and  bring  you 
a  bag  of  jewels,  nor  wave  a  magic  wand  and  turn  half  a 
dozen  lizards  into  prancing  horses,  but  so  long  as  your 
wishes  are  modest,  who  knows  but  what  I  may  help  you 
(be  it  ever  so  small  an  aid)  towards  their  fulfilment. 

"  There  is  a  proverb  which  says,  '  God  helps  him  who 
gets  up  betimes  in  the  morning.'  Which  means,  that 
even  did  it  lie  in  my  power  to  do  much  for  you,  still  it 
would  avail  you  little  unless  you  did  more  for  yourselves. 

"  And  now,  enough  of  preaching  —  what  would  each 
of  you  like  to  be  ?  " 

The  boys,  very  much  astonished,  were  silent.  Pelao 
had  only  partly  understood  the  pure  Castilian,  but  El 
Chopo  had  followed  it  word  for  word. 

"  Speak  and  be  not  afraid,"  said  Padre  Ignacio,  smil- 
136 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

ing.     "  You  know  that  '  Brother  Modest  never  became 
a  Prior.'  " 

At  length  said  El  Chopo  — 

"  I  should  like  to  learn  to  read  and  write,  and  then  to 
travel." 

And  Pelao,  understanding  the  issue  by  this  sample 
and  being  much  emboldened,  chimed  in  — 

"  And  I  —  I  should  like  to  be  a  bull-fighter." 

"  j  Valgame  Dios !  "  cried  Padre  Ignacio,  laughing ; 
"  what  a  difference  in  tastes  !  " 

But  El  Chopo' s  answer  had  pleased  him  very  well. 

"What  is  the  good,"  cried  El  Chopo,  looking  scorn- 
fully upon  his  brother,  "  of  making  oneself  a  spectacle 
in  public  and  running  away  in  pink  breeches  from  an 
angry  bull  ? " 

"  And  what  is  the  good,"  retorted  Pelao,  "  of  learning 
to  read  and  write,  and  sitting  in  a  corner  mum  when 
there's  something  better  to  do  ? " 

"  But  without  reading,  without  knowledge  of  any 
kind,  it  is  difficult  to  travel  and  enjoy  oneself,"  objected 
the  priest,  "  and  before  we  have  done  with  each  other  I 
hope  to  show  good  reasons  why  knowledge  should  be 
the  first  stepping-stone  towards  any  end  whatever  that 
is  worthy  of  our  zeal. 

"  Knowledge  opens  our  eyes  and  makes  us  see  more 
clearly.  Things  wear  a  different  aspect  for  those  who 
have  education. 

"  Who  would  believe,  for  instance,  that  this  bottle  of 
water  before  us  has  thousands  upon  thousands  of  living 
beings  concealed  in  it,  each  one  swimming  rapidly  hither 
and  thither,  scores  of  them  disporting  in  the  space  of  a 
caraway  seed,  yet  never  jostling  one  another  ? 

"  Who  would  believe  that  there  are  lands  where  for 
months  and  months  dark  night  prevails,  and  for  months 
and  months  the  sun  is  ever  shining  ? 

137 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  Who  would  believe  that  there  are  fountains  of  water 
that  rise  from  the  earth  so  boiling  hot  that  an  ox  might 
be  boiled  alive  in  them,  and  fountains  of  oil  which,  once 
set  alight,  burn  without  ceasing,  and  make  themselves 
seen  over  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  miles  ? 

"  Who  would  believe  there  are  people  that  live  under- 
ground, horses  that  toil  in  mines  and  have  never  seen 
light  for  years,  carriages  that  rush  onward  without  any 
horses  at  all,  men  that  fly  upward  in  baskets  and  lose 
themselves  over  the  clouds  ? 

"  Yet  all  these  things  I  know,  through  being  able  to 
read." 

The  two  lads  had  followed  his  words  with  much 
interest. 

El  Chopo  was  silently  enraptured,  and  could  not  take 
his  eyes  off  the  Jesuit's  countenance. 

Pelao  let  loose  a  most  profane  expression  of  surprise, 
and  then  rapped  out  another  that  was  worse,  to  keep  it 
company. 

Padre  Ignacio  looked  upon  him  reproachfully,  but 
without  the  least  effect,  for  Pelao  was  quite  ignorant 
that  this  mode  of  venting  admiration  was  at  all  un- 
welcome, and  indeed  it  was  the  only  thing  he  had  done 
that  evening  which  had  not  preyed  upon  his  conscience. 

This  incident  appeared  to  suggest  something  further 
to  the  priest,  for  presently  he  said  — 

"  Not  only  do  I  propose  to  read  to  you  of  all  these 
things  and  to  teach  you  to  read  yourselves,  but  there 
are  other  matters  of  far  greater  weight  which  must  be 
thought  about.  Do  you  know,  boy,  who  He  is  that  you 
have  named  ? " 

So  meaningless  was  the  oath  that  Pelao  did  not  think 
he  had  referred  to  any  one. 

"  Look  you,  everything  must  have  a  beginning.  Who 
do  you  suppose  made  all  things  in  the  beginning  ?  " 

138 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

"  How  should  7  know  ? "  said  Pelao,  shrugging  his 
brown  shoulders  as  if  it  were  none  of  his  business. 
But  El  Chopo  said  "  Ah !  "  and  nodded  his  head  at  the 
Jesuit  as  much  as  to  say  that  it  was  not  the  first  time 
this  problem  had  been  before  him. 

"  What  becomes  of  us  when  we  die  ? "  continued  the 
priest. 

"  Pues  senor,  you  have  only  to  walk  in  the  cemetery 
and  your  nose  will  tell  you,"  replied  Pelao  convincingly, 
and  pointing  towards  the  graveyard  on  the  cliff. 

"  That  is  what  happens  to  the  body,  my  child.  But 
have  you  never  heard  of  the  soul  ? " 

"Yes,"  said  El  Chopo,  coming  to  the  rescue;  "I 
have  heard  the  priest  speak  about  it,  but  I  cannot 
follow  what  he  says." 

"  Then,"  answered  the  Jesuit,  "  I  have  books  which 
will  tell  us  much  about  it.  I  have  books  which  tell 
how  the  whole  world  was  made  by  God  and  all  that 
happened  many  thousands  of  years  ago.  I  propose 
that  you  come  to  me  four  or  five  evenings  in  the  week, 
that  you  breakfast  with  me  once  or  twice,  and  some- 
times in  the  daytime  when  the  water  is  rough  we  will 
sit  out  in  the  open  with  our  books.  And  before  a  year 
has  passed,  I'll  warrant  you  will  both  of  you  feel 
astonished  at  the  wonderful  things  you  had  never 
dreamt  about." 

Much  more  did  the  good  priest  say  to  them  in  addi- 
tion, and  when  they  departed  even  Pelao  had  made  up 
his  mind  to  learn. 

As  for  El  Chopo,  the  seed  had  fallen  in  his  heart  and 
was  destined  to  bring  forth  —  what  fruit?  For  there 
be  some  fruit  that  is  wholesome,  some  that  is  deadly. 
******** 

As  time  passed  on,  Padre  Ignacio  continued  to  per- 
form the  duties  that  had  been  assigned  to  him  in  Cinco 

139 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Caminos  and  Santa  Fe,  and  such  was  the  tact  that  he 
exhibited,  so  quiet  and  irresistible  was  his  manner,  that 
before  very  long  the  people  had  ceased  to  regard  the 
Jesuits  as  children  of  the  Evil  One,  and  the  neighbour- 
hood was  quite  ready  to  tolerate  their  presence  once 
again. 

One  day  the  Bishop  of  Santa  Fe  himself  came  down 
in  state  to  the  Padre's  humble  lodging  in  Cinco  Cami- 
nos and  loaded  him  with  ignorant  condescension  under 
which  the  Jesuit  groaned  inwardly,  but  received  it  with 
placid  smiles  of  gratitude. 

At  last  it  became  known  that  the  Company  of  Jesus 
had  been  invited  back  to  Spain  and  honoured  with  great 
distinctions  in  Salamanca  and  elsewhere,  and  all  eyes  in 
Santa  Fe  were  centred  upon  the  empty  College  on  the 
hillside.  On  Sunday  afternoons  the  Fonda  del  Trini 
reaped  quite  a  little  harvest  from  people  who  had  pro- 
longed their  walk  in  that  direction,  being  anxious  to 
observe  whether  the  College  yet  showed  any  signs  of 
life,  and  for  a  short  season  it  became  quite  the  fashion 
to  go  "  first  to  the  bull-fight  and  then  to  the  Jesuits." 

These  anticipations  were  quite  warranted. 

For  many  months  beforehand  Padre  Ignacio  and  Don 
Ram6n  Gonzalez  had  been  accustomed  to  pay  almost 
daily  visits  to  the  College,  and  many  were  the  bad 
quarters  of  an  hour  they  gave  to  Tfo  Patas  for  his 
negligence  and  shortcomings.  But  Tfo  Patas  was  not 
cursed  with  sensitive  feelings,  and  looked  down  his  long 
nose  with  an  air  that  was  very  like  indifference  and 
shrugged  his  round  shoulders  over  the  unpruned 
vines  and  weedy  flower-beds,  putting  out  his  hands  and 
crying  :  "  What  would  you  ?  With  only  two  men  to 
help  me,  one  of  them  deaf  and  dumb,  and  the  other 
three  parts  an  idiot !  "  For  both  his  assistants  had 
been  "  recommended." 

140 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Soon  there  arose  a  great  beating  of  hammers  and 
grunting  of  saws,  which  was  audible  right  down  in 
Cinco  Caminos,  and  it  transpired  that  over  twenty  work- 
men were  busy  up  in  the  College  preparing  for  the  great 
home-coming  of  the  exiles. 

Forthwith  many  applicants  for  work  began  to  wait 
upon  Padre  Ignacio,  bearing  letters  of  recommendation 
from  all  manner  of  men  of  high  degree.  Each  work- 
man thus  accredited  was  an  inevitable  source  of  offence 
to  his  patron  if  the  Jesuit  refused  him  employment,  and 
inasmuch  as  there  were  half  a  dozen  of  the  "  choicest, 
most  accomplished,  and  most  trustworthy"  artisans 
seated  on  a  bench  outside  the  fonda  every  morning 
before  Padre  Ignacio  was  awake,  the  band  of  workers 
up  in  the  College  soon,  swelled  from  twenty  to  eighty, 
and  woe  the  day  when  they  had  to  be  dismissed ! 

In  due  time  the  Jesuits  arrived,  and  Padre  Ignacio 
gave  up  his  lodging  at  the  Fonda  del  Trini,  and  parted 
good  friends  with  his  host  and  hostess.  To  the  former 
he  gave  a  handsome  silver  snuffbox,  to  the  latter  a 
silken  shawl  of  Manila,  and  these  good  people  would 
never  hear  evil  spoken  of  the  Jesuits  from  the  day 
when  they  first  heard  Padre  Ignacio's  voice.  Soon 
afterwards  it  transpired  that  he  was  Padre  Rector  of 
the  College,  and  all  that  knew  him  wished  him  well  in 
this  high  office. 

From  the  time  when  Padre  Ignacio  first  met  the  boys 
they  never  knew  what  it  was  to  go  hungry  and  in  rags, 
though  he  did  not  at  first  attempt  to  lift  them  above 
their  calling  as  fisher  lads,  saying  that  Simon  and  John 
and  Andrew  had  been  fishermen  before  them.  But 
one  morning  Padre  Ignacio  summoned  the  two  boys 
to  the  College,  and  meeting  them  in  the  orchard,  said 
kindly  to  Pelao,  with  his  hand  upon  his  head  — 

"  My  child,  would  you  like  to  be  better  clothed  and 
141 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

educated,  to  live  in  a  fine  house  in  Madrid,  and  become 
a  gentleman  ?  " 

Pelao  opened  his  eyes  very  wide  indeed. 

"  Your  father,"  continued  the  priest,  "  is  not  dead 
after  all.  He  is  growing  old,  and  he  bids  me  send  you 
to  him." 

"  And  me  ?  "  asked  El  Chopo. 

The  priest  winced. 

"  Do  you  really  wish  to  leave  me,  then  ? "  asked  Padre 
Ignacio  with  a  smile. 

El  Chopo  thought  for  a  while. 

"  Nay,  it  is  not  that !  "  he  answered  with  a  sigh,  "  but 
the  hard  life  one  leads,  and  the  fine  sights  and  great 
cities  that  Pelao  is  going  to  see." 

"  I  will  make  thee  forget  them,"  said  the  priest,  and 
having  first  looked  around  him,  he  embraced  the  lad. 

So  Pelao  departed  and  El  Chopo  remained  behind. 
**#****# 

For  several  years  there  happened  but  little  in  Santa 
Fe  to  interest  outsiders,  and  the  good  people  went  on 
amusing  themselves  according  to  their  wont.  Their  life 
was  free  from  turmoil,  and  it  even  lacked  incident,  but 
it  was  uncursed  by  the  demon  of  modernity  and  there- 
fore it  was  good  to  live. 

It  must  not  be  imagined,  however,  that  one's  actions 
in  Santa  Fe  in  those  days  were  without  restraint. 
There  were  unwritten  laws  of  custom  which  had  to  be 
obeyed. 

Given  a  certain  hour  and  time  of  year,  tell  me,  more- 
over, if  the  moon  is  at  the  full,  and  I  will  inform  you  to 
a  nicety  what  promenade  you  should  be  walking  after 
sunset  and  even  which  side  to  go  upon.  After  the 
siesta,  during  which  the  watermen  have  sprinkled  the 
scorching  gravel  with  their  hose,  you  may  walk  along 
the  mole.  At  night,  the  clatter  of  the  dominoes  on  the 

142 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

marble  tables  of  the  Circulo  de  Levante,  and,  behind 
the  scenes,  gambling  at  cards  around  a  long  green  baize 
table.  This  is  forbidden  by  the  law,  but  —  "What  is 
one  to  do  ?  " 

Each  new  Civil  Governor,  when  he  assumes  office, 
pays  a  "  surprise  "  visit  to  all  clubs  to  put  down  gam- 
bling ;  but  first  he  sends  his  card,  one  day  beforehand, 
and  when  he  appears,  with  eye  severe  and  beard  of 
formal  cut,  he  can  find  no  games  but  chess  and  domi- 
noes, and  so  reports.  This  is  not  without  its  due  reward. 
There  was  a  rustle  of  silk  and  percale  every  evening 
after  six  along  the  Alameda  and  a  display  of  pretty  feet 
in  net-worked  stockings.  Sandalled  slippers  had  not 
altogether  fallen  out  of  fashion  and  the  Spanish  bas- 
quina  or  upper  petticoat  was  still  to  be  seen,  although 
it  had  already  commenced  its  descent  from  those  of 
high  degree.  On  feast  days  after  high  mass,  and  on 
moonlight  nights,  the  promenade  would  be  extended 
beyond  the  Alameda  and  would  reach  right  across  the 
Arroyo  in  the  direction  of  Cinco  Caminos,  some  even 
passing  the  barber's  shop  where  the  priest,  the  school- 
master, the  mayor,  and  several  others  could  be  seen  ges- 
ticulating at  one  another  by  the  light  of  the  shaving 
lamp,  which,  indeed,  was  the  only  decent  lamp  in  Cinco 
Caminos  and  attracted  a  multitude  of  moths,  two-legged 
and  otherwise. 

Many  were  the  families,  even  in  Santa  Fe,  that 
walked  abroad  for  hours  to  save  the  expense  of  lamp 
oil.  Dona  Maria  Lopez,  the  widow  of  a  captain,  with 
three  handsome  daughters,  how  could  she,  for  instance, 
keep  a  light  in  every  window  on  ninety-five  pounds  a 
year  ? 

Nevertheless,  her  girls  were  as  well  dressed  as  any 
of  them,  for  a  Spaniard  looks  to  appearances  first,  and 
provisions  the  larder  afterwards.  If  the  house  is  to  be 

143 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

stinted  anywhere  be  sure  it  will  be  the  dining-room  that 
suffers,  and  so  long  as  the  receiving  room  is  made  attrac- 
tive the  kitchen  and  larder  may  wait  for  better  times. 
Some  households,  indeed,  were  without  knives  and 
forks,  these  being  sent  in  with  the  meal  twice  daily 
from  an  adjacent  fonda,  and  this  "full  service"  was 
rendered  for  less  than  two  shillings  a  day  to  the  godly, 
but  to  those  who  would  not  go  meatless  during  Lent, 
nor  fast  as  they  should  do  at  various  other  seasons,  the 
tariff  was  somewhat  higher.  And  it  is  but  right  that 
wickedness  should  be  taxed. 

People  like  the  widow  and  her  daughters  could  not 
even  pay  for  the  "  servicio  "  from  the  fonda,  for  mighty 
little  arithmetic  will  show  you  that  four  people  at  two 
shillings  each  per  diem  would  soon  make  a  hole  in 
^95,  and  even  on  half  rations  (which  is  the  way  that 
many  worked  it)  the  surplus  for  general  expenses  would 
be  but  a  meagre  one. 

But  garbanzos  (or  chickpeas)  cost  little  more  in  those 
days  than  a  penny  a  pound,  and  a  pound  of  garbanzos 
well  boiled,  with  a  little  cabbage,  a  farthing's  worth 
of  red  sausage  (or  chorizo),  a  like  amount  of  salt  pig's 
fat,  and  a  mere  suspicion  of  garlic  makes  a  stew  that 
is  savoury  and  satisfying.  It  will  easily  content  three 
laughing  girls,  who  think  nothing  of  their  stomachs  but 
a  great  deal  of  their  bonnets,  and  have  spent  all  the 
morning  in  turning  Lola's  summer  dress  of  a  year  ago 
and  making  it  look  like  new.  This  newness,  be  sure, 
will  not  deceive  the  quick  eyes  of  the  doctor's  girls, 
their  rivals,  who  will  probably  make  such  cruel  fun  of 
the  effort  to-night  upon  the  Alameda,  though  cooing 
sweet  courtesies  the  while,  that  Lola  will  go  home  in 
tears.  To-morrow  it  will  be  Concha's  turn  to  run  the 
gauntlet,  and  Concha  perhaps  is  to  wear  a  resurrection 
of  her  mother's  wedding  gown  which  has  lain  at  the 

144 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

bottom  of  a  trunk  for  twenty  years.  This  no  doubt  will 
puzzle  the  doctor's  girls,  but  the  kitchen  maid  will  soon 
unravel  the  thread,  and  alas  for  poor  Concha's  feelings 
when  she  meets  them  !  For  those  laughing  black  eyes 
are  terrible  things  to  meet,  for  man  or  woman,  in  love 
or  war. 

Sunday,  of  course,  was  the  one  great  day  in  the  week 
save  when  a  greater  feast  day  eclipsed  it.  After  the 
bull-fight  there  would  be  a  procession  of  carriage  folk 
and  pedestrians  along  the  main  road  that  skirts  the  bull- 
ring and  joins  Santa  Fe  to  Cinco  Caminos.  There,  in- 
deed, beauty  outvied  itself.  Faces  surrounded  by  black 
mantillas,  by  crimson,  or  by  white ;  black  hair  adorned 
with  red  carnations  and  with  yellow  rosebuds,  eyes  that 
invited  one  then  turned  away,  lips  that  spoke  coyly  and 
fans  that  spoke  freely,  the  same  may  be  seen  to-day. 

Now  this  was  a  sight  that  pleased  El  Chopo  mightily. 
The  lad  was  too  young  to  be  moved  by  women's  glances, 
and  though  many  a  dainty  seflorita  looked  towards  his 
handsome  face  and  lusty  young  form  he  met  the  glance 
unflinching  and  unconscious.  It  was  the  beauty  and 
picturesqueness  of  the  scene  that  really  attracted  him. 

The  theatre,  on  moonless  nights,  was  the  only  proper 
rendezvous  for  ladies  who  looked  to  the  proprieties.  In 
those  days,  just  as  in  our  own,  the  night  watchmen  of 
Santa  Fe,  being  allowed  a  certain  amount  of  lamp  oil 
per  post,  were  in  the  habit  of  selling  what  portion  of 
this  total  they  considered  could  easily  be  dispensed  with. 

The  result  was  that  the  serrenos  of  largest  families 
were  those  whose  lamps  were  soonest  extinguished,  and 
if  one  chanced  upon  a  lamp  that  burned  till  midnight, 
one  concluded  that  the  serreno  of  that  street  was 
neither  saving  up  money  for  the  future,  battling  with 
arrears  of  the  past,  nor  wasting  his  present  substance 
in  riotous  living. 

L  145 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

This  is  not  a  secret  and  illicit  double  dealing.  It  is 
the  acknowledged  perquisite  of  men  who  are  scarcely 
ever  paid.  This  being  so,  the  Alcalde  of  Sante  Fe 
cannot  well  discharge  a  serreno  whose  lamps  have 
gone  out  too  early.  He  will  call  him  aside,  and  taking 
him  by  the  button,  will  say  to  him  very  decently, 
"  Friend,  there  are  complaints  that  your  street  is  dark 
after  nine.  It  is  not  that  I  care  one  whit,  nor  wish 
to  disparage  your  services,  no  one  esteems  you  more 
highly,  but  after  all  there  are  certain  decencies  to  be 
observed  and  —  without  offence  —  you  were  paid  off 
half  your  arrears  last  Monday  week ;  so  that,  look  you, 
half  an  hour  or  so  more  lamplight  is  a  matter  you 
might  very  well  concede.  And  what  calls  my  attention 
most  is  that  all  your  lamps  go  out  together.  Now,  of 
six  lamps,  it  were  better  for  three  to  go  out  at  eight 
and  three  at  ten,  than  all  of  them  at  nine,  for  it  needs 
but  a  spark  of  light  to  remind  a  man  of  his  conscience, 
and  a  street  full  of  darkness  is  at  best  a  sore  tempta- 
tion and  a  matter  that  might  any  day  end  with  your 
reputation." 


146 


CHAPTER  X 

"If  good,  why  do  I  yield  to  that  suggestion, 
Whose  horrid  image  doth  unfix  my  hair  ?  " 

Macbeth. 

AT  the  hour  of  the  siesta,  one  day  in  August,  Don 
Ramon  Gonzalez  climbed  up  the  hill  towards  the 
Jesuit  College.  Entering  from  the  road,  he  passed  a 
massive  door  in  a  yet  more  massive  wall,  and,  climbing 
ten  steps,  found  himself  in  an  avenue  of  palms.  These 
palms  were  half  a  century  old,  and,  looking  from  the 
College  doorsteps,  they  shaped  a  framework  round  a 
patch  of  azure  sea,  in  the  foreground  the  buff-coloured 
path  of  gravel,  at  the  top  a  piece  of  sky  in  keeping 
with  the  sea. 

Sometimes  a  dove-like  falucha  would  place  itself  in 
the  centre  of  this  picture,  or  a  big  lizard  would  sud- 
denly shoot  along  the  little  world's  end  of  gravel  path 
where  (seen  from  the  College)  it  drew  a  line  across  the 
distant  water  far  below,  and  with  these  touches  of  life 
the  picture  was  such  as  to  compel  the  stranger  to  halt 
when  he  left  the  threshold. 

Having  passed  along  this  avenue,  the  porch  of  the 
College  stood  in  front,  approached  by  three  stone  steps, 
and  on  either  side  of  the  porch  was  a  luxuriant  mass 
of  jasmine. 

To  Don  Ramon  Gonzalez  the  heavy  oak  door  opened 
of  its  own  accord,  and  without  crying  "  Open  Sesame  ! " 

This  did  not  puzzle  him,  for  those  who  were  ad- 
mitted by  the  aid  of  this  phenomenon  knew  that  the  two 
masses  of  jasmine  covered  two  iron-barred  windows, 

H7 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

and  at  one  of  these  windows  sat  a  watchful  novice 
with  the  cord  of  the  latch  brought  over  pulleys  to  a 
ring  beside  his  desk,  and  every  time  that  any  one  came 
in  or  went  out,  he  paused  from  his  reading,  and, 
glancing  at  a  clock  above  the  desk,  made  a  swift  entry 
in  a  note-book. 

Don  Ramon  sought  the  study  of  the  Father  Rector, 
which  was  on  the  first  floor  behind  the  College  and  over- 
looking the  orchard. 

A  white  marble  table  resting  on  spiral  legs  of  ebony 
stood  in  the  centre,  and  on  it  were  writing  materials 
and  books. 

There  were  easy  chairs  for  visitors,  upholstered  in 
crimson  plush,  and  even  a  couch  of  the  same  material. 
A  pair  of  curtains  covered  an  alcove  where  the  priest 
had  his  bed,  and  an  oil  lamp  on  the  table  with  a  green 
shade  suggested  that  the  good  father  might  sometimes 
resign  himself  to  wakefulness  when  sleep  was  not  to  be 
courted,  and  seating  himself  at  the  table,  might  pore 
over  his  books  until  the  small  hours  of  the  morning, 
then  back  to  his  bed,  thankful  for  fatigue,  and  listening 
to  the  croaking  of  the  frogs  as  it  grew  fainter  and 
fainter ;  then  blessed  oblivion ;  then  a  bell ;  then  cruel 
reality,  dawn,  work,  and  matins,  and  another  day's  pil- 
grimage through  a  desert  of  diplomacy  and  common- 
places. 

On  the  left-hand  wall  hung  a  cage  in  which  was  a 
singing  partridge;  beyond  it  was  the  alcove. 

On  the  right-hand  wall  was  a  large  crucifix,  and  on 
either  side  of  the  crucifix  a  bookcase.  The  books  were 
for  the  most  part  in  French. 

Padre  Ignacio  looked  up  suddenly  from  a  manu- 
script when  the  visitor  opened  the  door.  Another 
priest  was  standing  beside  his  chair. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  Don  Ram6n,"  exclaimed  the  Rector, 
148 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

rising,   "  so   you  are  back  again  from  Madrid  !      Wel- 
come indeed  !     And  how  are  you  ? " 

"  None  too  well,"  replied  the  blunt  old  countryman, 
after  saluting  the  two  priests  and  passing  one  hand 
round  his  back  and  hips  to  indicate  the  trouble.  "  I 
fear  that  this  malady  will  make  an  end  of  me  before 
another  twelve  months." 

"  My  dear  old  friend,  we  must  not  speak  like  that," 
said  the  Rector  encouragingly,  and  patting  him  on  the 
shoulders.  "  We  must  not  speak  so  hopelessly !  " 

"Well,  I  have  tried  all  things.  Your  own  Padre 
Bermejo,  the  court  physicians  at  Madrid' — all  to  no 
purpose.  Some  tell  me  to  go  to  the  springs  at  Mar- 
mole  jo,  or  the  springs  of  Arriate,  but  I  have  no  faith 
in  springs.  If  it  be  God's  will  that  I  must  die  soon, 
why  die  I  must,  in  His  good  time,  and  so  long  as  I 
die  in  Santa  Fe  I  will  be  satisfied." 

The  Rector  sat  down  beside  his  old  friend  and  rested 
his  hand  upon  his  arm,  speaking  to  him  with  a  sympathy 
that  was  almost  affectionate,  and  offering  to  wager  that 
he  himself  would  be  taken  before  old  Don  Ram6n. 

"  Well,  if  you  win,"  replied  the  other,  laughing,  "  I 
hardly  see  how  it  will  profit  you,  my  dear  Padre!  " 

The  two  became  very  merry  over  this  simple  joke. 
Meanwhile  the  black  eyes  of  the  other  priest  were 
fixed  upon  them  as  though  studying  some  interesting 
subject.  His  face  was  absolutely  without  sympathy 
for  either  speaker,  and  even  when  he  smiled  he  did  so 
mechanically  and  just  sufficiently  to  avoid  being  con- 
spicuous by  his  coldness.  This  detachment  of  Padre 
Martinez  from  the  human  influences  around  him  was 
at  times  almost  painful,  for  nobody  could  ignore  it, 
and  the  more  one  yielded  to  impulse  or  emotion,  the 
more  inscrutable  did  his  judgment  of  those  impulses 
become. 

149 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

His  chin  was  square,  his  mouth  with  decision  in  the 
corners,  his  nose  slightly  aquiline  and  rather  prominent. 
The  face  altogether  was  a  powerful  one.  When  re- 
lieved by  a  smile  it  was  not  without  attraction,  but  it 
utterly  lacked  repose,  for  so  eager  and  watchful  were 
the  twinkling  black  eyes  that  it  was  difficult  for  one 
to  look  at  Padre  Martinez  and  imagine  his  appearance 
when  asleep.  This  priest  came  from  the  busy  com- 
mercial region  of  Cataluna,  where  energy  at  times  breaks 
out  into  rebellion.  In  his  heart  he  despised  the  slow 
life  of  Santa  Fe. 

"Well!  well!"  said  Don  Ram6n  presently,  cutting 
short  the  conversation  on  personal  topics  as  he  met  the 
eyes  of  this  priest,  "  enough  of  aches  and  pains  !  You 
are  in  the  midst  of  your  books  as  usual,  I  see." 

"  Ah,  they  are  very  good  friends,"  replied  the  Rector, 
"very  good  friends  indeed!  And  —  you  have  brought 
us  news  ? " 

"  Sealed  packages  !  "  said  Gonzalez  shortly,  placing 
two  upon  the  table. 

The  Rector  glanced  at  the  handwriting  of  the  outer 
covers  and  opened  each  packet  in  turn,  asking  his  vis- 
itor's indulgence  whilst  he  perused  them. 

"In  cypher,  Padre  Martinez,  the  cypher  of  last  year, 
I  think.  Will  you  transcribe  it  for  me  ?  " 

Padre  Ignacio  handed  to  the  other  priest  one  of  the 
documents  taken  from  the  second  package.  Padre 
Martinez  seated  himself  at  the  table  without  replying, 
took  up  a  pen,  and  commenced  to  write.  Don  Ramon 
Gonzalez  sat  watching  Padre  Martinez,  whose  massive 
features  seemed  to  have  a  fascination  for  him. 

The  latter,  whilst  he  pursued  his  task,  lifted  his  eyes 
occasionally  towards  the  Rector,  and  no  movement  that 
the  Rector  made  seemed  to  escape  him.  Especially 
watchful  did  he  appear  when  Padre  Ignacio,  after  scan- 

150 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

ning  some  document  or  other,  placed  it  on  one  side. 
At  length  the  Rector  concluded  his  reading,  and  only 
two  of  the  documents,  which  seemed  to  be  routine  reports, 
were  handed  to  his  brother  priest.  As  for  the  remainder, 
they  were  secured  under  lock  and  key  by  the  Rector, 
who  rose  with  a  sigh  and  placed  them  in  a  drawer  under 
the  left-hand  bookcase.  From  this  drawer  he  moved 
towards  a  spirit  lamp  on  the  other  side  of  the  room  and 
lighted  the  wick  over  which  hung  a  silvered  kettle. 

"  So  you  will  see,  my  dear  Padre  Martinez,"  said  the 
Rector,  coming  back  to  his  seat,  "  that  this  agitation  is 
no  child's  play." 

"  It  should  never  have  been  allowed  to  ripen,"  replied 
the  other  priest  vehemently. 

"How  should  it  be  prevented?"  asked  the  Rector, 
with  a  smile. 

"  By  nipping  it  in  the  bud." 

"  Look  now,"  said  Padre  Ignacio,  waving  his  hand 
airily  towards  his  subordinate,  "  at  our  zealous  root  and 
branch,  man  !  And,  mind  you,  it  is  possible  that  he  is 
in  the  right.  Oh,  quite  possible !  But  for  the  life  of 
me,  my  dear  Don  Ramon,  I  cannot  see  how  violent 
measures  should  profit  us.  And  remember,  my  dear 
Padre  Martinez,  that  that  same  frost,  wherewith  we 
would  nip  this  bud,  must  nip  many  another  bud  that 
grows  alongside  and  would  bring  us  most  glorious  fruit." 

"  Moreover,"  said  Gonzalez,  "  one  violent  blow  can 
scarcely  be  wiped  out  by  a  thousand  kind  caresses.  I 
am  bf  your  mind,  if  I  may  speak  about  it.  Skill  is 
better  than  force." 

"  You  speak,"  replied  Padre  Martinez,  with  a  short 
vexed  laugh,  "  as  though  I  were  proposing  to  chop  off  a 
dozen  heads." 

"  Well,  you  see  what  the  Provincial  advised,"  said  the 
Rector,  rising  with  a  sigh,  and  preparing  to  make  coffee. 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"You  did  not  show  me  his  letter,"  replied  Padre 
Martinez. 

"  Tut !  A  mere  oversight !  I  meant  to  show  it  to 
you.  You  shall  have  it  in  a  moment.  In  a  moment ! 
As  soon  as  I  have  poured  out  —  Look  !  Are  there 
three  coffee  cups  or  only  two  ? " 

Padre  Martinez  stooped  down  beside  the  cupboard 
and  returned  to  the  table  with  three  cups  and  saucers. 
The  Rector  came  forward  with  the  coffee,  went  back 
for  a  bowl  of  sugar  and  some  spoons,  then  unlocked 
the  drawer  again,  and  after  turning  over  some  letters, 
he  placed  one  of  them  in  front  of  the  other  priest. 
Don  Ram6n  offered  the  Rector  a  cigarette,  and  the 
two  shared  a  spill  which  nearly  went  out  whilst  they 
disputed  as  to  who  should  light  first.  Padre  Martinez, 
who  had  refused  the  proffered  tobacco  case  with  a  bow, 
continued  poring  over  the  letter  and  frowning  atten- 
tively. All  three  persons  remained  in  conversation 
for  fully  two  hours  ;  in  fact,  the  dying  sun  was  already 
crimsoning  the  leaves  of  the  Jesuit's  orchard,  when 
Don  Ram6n  Gonzdlez,  turning  to  the  Rector  during 
a  pause,  said  to  him  meaningly,  "  I  have  also  some 
personal  news  for  you,  of  some  importance." 

At  these  words  Padre  Martinez,  in  duty  bound, 
pushed  away  his  chair  and  rose  to  go.  When  he 
turned  his  back  upon  the  others  a  slight  shadow  as  of 
jealousy  or  vexation  might  have  been  seen  upon  his 
face.  When  he  had  closed  the  door  Gonzalez  went 
on  — 

"  I  hardly  know  whether  I  have  done  right  in  worry- 
ing you  with  so  much  business  to-day,  for  I  am  the 
bearer  of  ill  news.  I  have  kept  it  until  the  last,  for  I 
felt  sure  that  you  would  be  equal  to  nothing  else 
afterwards." 

"  I  will  try  to  control  myself,"  replied  the  Rector. 
152 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  I  am  a  poor  old  man,  but  my  early  discipline  has  not 
as  yet  forsaken  me.  What  is  your  news  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  message  from  a  dying  man." 

"  From  a  dying  man  ? " 

The  Rector  looked  at  him  expectantly. 

"  Forgive  me,"  Gonzalez  went  on,  somewhat  bluntly, 
"for  bringing  you  such  ill  tidings.  Don  Antonio, 
your  brother,  is  dead." 

Padre  Ignacio  turned  very  pale  and  rose  suddenly 
from  his  chair. 

"  He  heard  that  I  was  in  Madrid  and  sent  for  me. 
The  closing  hours  of  his  life  were  very  pitiful." 

"  What,  poverty  ?     My  brother  dying  in  poverty  ?  " 

"  No,  surrounded  by  every  comfort,  but  in  abject 
fear  —  of  a  woman.  The  tale  is  a  long  one.  Don 
Antonio's  life  —  where  is  the  good  of  hiding  it  ?  —  was 
intemperate,  and  he  paid  a  bitter  penalty.  At  the 
time  when  most  men  are  in  their  prime,  he  fell  into  a 
state  of  dotage,  and  lost  his  strength  of  body  and  of 
mind.  To  tell  you  the  truth  I  thought  when  last  I 
saw  him,  only  two  years  ago,  that  this  would  come  to 
pass,  but  the  swiftness  of  the  change  is  awful,  too 
awful  for  me  to  tell  you." 

"  God  rest  his  soul,"  said  the  Rector,  who  had  been 
standing  beside  his  chair.  But  his  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  Don  Ramon  as  if  in  still  greater  dread  of  some- 
thing yet  to  come. 

"  They  tell  me,"  said  Gonzalez,  "  that  he  babbled 
the  wildest  nonsense,  said  the  strangest  things  to 
those  around  him." 

"  As  what,  for  instance  ? "  asked  the  Rector,  in  a 
faint  voice. 

"  Well  —  I  was  not  with  him  when  he  breathed  his 
last,"  replied  the  other,  leaning  forward  in  his  chair, 
"  but  I  will  tell  you  a  strange  thing  he  said  to  me.  I 

153 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

went  to  see  him  the  day  before  he  died.  'What/ 
said  I,  '  has  become  of  the  lad  ? '  Whereat  he  stared 
at  me,  then  sat  up  in  bed  and  laughed.  '  My  friend,' 
said  he,  'are  you  too  in  this  tremendous  joke?'  I 
looked  at  him  astonished,  and  he  looked  back  at  me, 
for  a  long  time,  whilst  one  might  say  a  credo,  then 
he  fell  back  again.  '  I  am  not  mad,'  says  he,  '  but  I 
will  tell  you  a  true  word,  Gonzalez,  for  old  acquaintance' 
sake,  the  Devil  stands  hard  by  the  Crucifix.'  What  do 
you  make  of  that  now  ?  " 

Don  Ramon  looked  across  at  the  Rector  with  a  face 
which,  though  somewhat  puzzled,  was  certainly  inno- 
cent of  guile. 

"  I  cannot  understand  it,"  said  the  Rector,  in  a 
voice  unnaturally  calm.  "  Did  he  confess  before  he 
died  ? " 

"  Alas,  he  died  unshriven  !  " 

When  Padre  Ignacio  heard  these  words  a  quick 
gleam  (as  if  of  hope  or  triumph  or  relief)  flashed  from 
his  eyes,  but  so  rapidly  was  it  succeeded  by  an  expres- 
sion of  bitterness  and  disgust  that  the  keenest  observer 
had  hardly  noticed  it.  Whence  came  that  loathing 
that  disfigured  the  Rector's  lips?  Was  it  born  of 
inward  contemplation  ? 

"Tell  me,"  said  Padre  Ignacio,  "what  actually 
happened  to  Pelao  ?  " 

"  I  found  out,"  replied  Gonzalez,  "  from  the  people 
of  the  house,  that  the  young  man  volunteered  in  an  in- 
fantry regiment,  just  two  years  after  he  left  Santa  Fe. 
He  is  now  in  Filipinas,  so  they  say." 

"Then  —  my  brother  did  not  fulfil  his  promise  to 
the  lad?" 

"  On  the  contrary.  They  seemed  to  have  agreed 
but  poorly  from  the  first,  he  and  Don  Antonio.  In 
the  end,  so  it  is  said,  Don  Antonio  bade  him  leave  the 

154 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

house.  There  were  many  idle  explanations  of  the 
event.  Some  contended  (here  Gonzalez  frowned  as  if 
the  subject  disgusted  him)  that  the  youth  was  too  much 
in  favour  with  this  woman  ;  others —  " 

"  Did  you  see  this  woman  ?  " 

"  Aye  !  A  magnificent  despot,  with  murder  written 
upon  her  forehead,  so  I  thought !  There  were  others 
said  that  this  was  only  a  quarter  of  the  truth,  that 
there  was  something  else." 

"What  else?" 

"  Nobody  seemed  to  know,"  said  Gonzalez,  shrugging 
his  shoulders.  "  Faith  !  It  is  a  mystery !  " 

The  Rector  heaved  a  deep  sigh. 

"  But  I  am  forgetting  the  chief  part  of  all  this 
mystery,"  continued  the  visitor,  speaking  more  cheer- 
fully and  feeling  in  his  inner  pocket.  "  I  have  here  a 
sealed  letter  for  you,  written  by  Don  Antonio  a  week 
or  two  before  he  died,  and  informing  you,  no  doubt,  of 
what  is  already  becoming  common  knowledge." 

"  Tell  me,"  said  the  Rector,  reaching  out  his  hand. 

"  Don  Antonio,  after  providing  for  this  woman  (much 
good  may  it  do  her!)  and  settling  all  his  debts,  has 
left  the  remainder  of  his  fortune  to  El  Chopo,  your 
nephew  and  favourite  pupil." 

The  Rector  in  his  surprise  almost  let  fall  the  pack- 
age ;  then,  placing  it  with  the  others  upon  the  table, 
he  stood  looking  at  his  visitor,  brushing  back  the  white 
locks  from  his  forehead  with  his  right  hand. 

"  You  are  surprised  ?  Aye,  but  you  would  have  been 
still  more  surprised  had  you  seen  the  change  in  him. 
What  a  bonny  man  he  was  in  his  day !  What  a  boister- 
ous jovial  fellow,  and  at  the  last  —  nothing  but  bitter 
gibes." 

"  There  is  surely  some  misunderstanding !  "  said  the 
Rector  at  last 

155 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  That  he  should  leave  his  money  to  our  young 
friend  here  in  Santa  Fe  ? " 

"  Aye !     There  is  some  mistake  !  " 

"Read  your  letter!"  suggested  Don  Ramon  briefly, 
pointing  towards  the  table. 

"  No ! "  replied  the  Rector,  with  sudden  emphasis, 
and  then,  as  though  feeling  that  he  had  acted  strangely, 
he  composed  himself  and  continued  with  more  calm- 
ness, "  I  would  rather  open  this  message  from  the  dead 
—  some  other  time." 

"  I  think,"  said  Gonzalez,  rising  and  taking  up  his 
hat,  "  that  you  would  naturally  prefer  to  open  it  alone. 
That  would  be  my  own  feeling.  And,  my  dear  Padre, 
you  must  know  how  much  it  pains  me  to  bring  such 
unwelcome  news  to  a  dear  old  friend,  and  one  whom  I 
so  lovingly  respect." 

The  Rector,  trying  to  smile,  took  the  hand  of  Gon- 
zalez in  his  own,  but  Gonzalez,  after  returning  his 
kindly  pressure,  bowed  his  head  and  kissed  the  Jesuit's 
hand,  then  left  him  without  another  word. 

Then  at  length  Padre  Ignacio  stood  alone,  the  un- 
opened letter  in  his  hand,  gazing  at  Antonio's  hand- 
writing upon  the  envelope. 

"  Dare  I  open  it  ?  "  said  he.  "  Dare  I  once  more 
look  back  upon  the  past,  the  past  that  lies  buried  — 
yonder  in  the  little  cemetery?" 

He  drew  towards  the  balcony  and  opened  the 
persianas. 

"What  mystery  of  mysteries  is  this,  of  which  I 
hold  the  key  between  my  fingers  ?  Antonio,  filled  with 
longing  for  his  son,  surely  this  was  strange  enough  in 
itself !  But  yet  we  are  all  one  clay.  Tell  me,  grim 
mountains  that  smile  down  upon  human  foibles  from 
such  a  height  and  distance,  what  then  is  this  enigma  ? 
Antonio  casting  out  his  own  flesh  and  blood  and  con- 

156 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

ferring  his  riches  upon  his  brother's  son  ?     Is  this  a 
mockery  ? " 

When  at  length  the  Rector  opened  the  letter  he  read 
these  words  — 

"  Brother  Priest,  thou  art  a  cuckoo, 
but  thou  shalt  foist  no  fledgeling  into 
my  nest  at  least.  Let  other  men,  more 
stupid  than  Antonio,  nurture  thy  off- 
spring if  they  choose.  '  My  son]  that 
was  sent  to  me,  is  thine.  My  money 
has  been  left  to  one  that  is  named 
El  Chopo.  If  he  be  your  child,  so 
much  the  better  should  you  be  pleased. 
Pray  for  my  soul,  Brother  Hypocrite, 
for  no  other  priest  shall  pray  for  me, 
I  swear." 

The  Rector  prayed  long  and  earnestly  before  his 
crucifix.  He  prayed  for  the  soul  of  Antonio.  He  re- 
viled himself  and  accused  himself  of  the  wreaking  of 
all  this  bitter  mockery.  The  ruin,  starvation,  misery, 
and  death  of  an  innocent  woman  he  cast  upon  himself. 
The  misfortunes  of  her  children,  the  misjudgment  of 
Antonio,  all  these  he  looked  upon  as  calamities  which 
his  sin  had  brought  to  pass.  Darkness  fell  upon  the 
room  and  found  him  still  in  prayer.  There  was  a 
knocking  at  the  stout  panels  of  the  chestnut  door,  but 
he  failed  to  hear  it.  Then  a  novice  raised  the  great 
iron  latch  and  came  in  with  a  silver  candlestick  and  a 
lighted  candle  in  either  hand.  The  breeze  from  the 
orchard  blew  the  open  letter  from  beside  the  Rector. 
It  fluttered  across  the  room  and  rustled  against  the 
feet  of  the  novice. 

Padre  Ignacio  rose  swiftly  from  his  knees. 

157 


THE    PAGAN    AT  THE   SHRINE 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  sudden  intrusion  ? 
Why  did  you  not  knock  ? " 

"  I  knocked  three  times,  Father,"  answered  the 
frightened  novice.  It  was  the  first  time  that  he  had 
ever  heard  the  Rector  speak  so  angrily. 

"  Look ! "  cried  the  Rector,  glaring  awfully  towards 
the  lad's  feet.  "What  is  that?  My  God!  Have 
you  —  No,  no !  I  forbid  you  to  touch  it.  Pick  up 
the  candles  again.  Place  them  both  upon  the  table  and 
leave  the  room  —  Stay  !  " 

The  novice  turned  back.  The  Rector  came  towards 
him  and  rested  one  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  Did  you  hear  aught  when  you  came  in  ?  " 

"  Nothing." 

"  Did  you  hear  me  praying  ?  " 

"  No.     I  did  not  think  that  you  were  here." 

"  It  is  a  pity,"  said  the  Rector  slowly,  releasing  the 
novice,  "  for  you  would  have  heard  an  honest  prayer. 
I  would  you  had  stood  behind  me  the  while." 

When  he  had  closed  the  door  and  shot  the  bolt  he 
drew  his  hand  across  his  forehead,  then,  picking  up  the 
letter,  he  held  it  in  the  flame  of  one  of  the  candles  and 
watched  it  burn  to  the  last  atom,  scorching  his  fingers, 
and  muttering,  "  Ah,  thou  poor  lump  of  clay !  Wert 
thou  aught  else  than  clay,  this  same  letter,  within  as 
hour  of  opening,  had  been  nailed  to  the  College  notice- 
board.  Is  it  then  God's  true  will  that  this  wealth  should 
fall  to  my  son?  What  good  can  come  of  it?  How 
quickly  the  night  has  gathered,  and  how  foreboding  the 
orchard  looks  without  ever  a  friendly  gleam  from  the 
moon  behind  yon  mountains !  Dusky,  whispering  trees, 
waving  ill  omens  towards  my  balcony,  surely  there  is 
some  presentiment  in  the  very  air  to-night !  " 


158 


CHAPTER   XI 

"  And  the  soul  of  King  David  longed  to  go  forth  unto  Absalom." 

2  Samuel  xiii.  39. 

AT  the  time  when  El  Chopo  received  the  news  of 
his  unexpected  fortune  he  could  already  read  and 
write.  He  had  a  good  knowledge  of  history  and  geog- 
raphy, and  was  even  able  to  speak  a  little  French,  in 
which  language  he  had  studied  the  Scriptures  from  a 
Bible  printed  in  Belgium. 

This  was  not  the  only  French  work  that  he  wrestled 
with,  for  he  waded  through  a  book  on  geology  called 
The  Earth  and  What  it  Teaches  Us,  an  ancient  treatise 
brought  by  Padre  Ignacio  from  Paris,  and  taken  from 
the  recesses  of  his  trunk  in  the  days  when  he  sojourned 
in  the  Fonda  del  Trini. 

It  is  typical  of  the  lad's  intelligence  that  he  undertook 
this  task  without  the  assistance  of  a  dictionary  and 
•armed  only  (in  the  commencement)  with  a  vocabulary 
of  some  thousand  words  at  most. 

Every  new  word  he  underlined,  and,  when  he  had 
met  it  in  two  or  three  connexions,  he  took  pleasure  in- 
assigning  it  a  meaning  consistent  with  all  these  pas- 
sages. Sometimes  he  was  wrong,  at  others  he  would 
be  baffled  by  a  technicality,  and  on  these  occasions  he 
marked  the  passage  for  Padre  Ignacio's  explanation. 

He  was  now  almost  a  giant,  his  height  being  little 
less  than  that  of  his  grandfather,  the  Vizcaino  charcoal- 
burner. 

159 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

From  helping  the  fishermen  he  was  taken  into  the 
sugar  factory  of  La  Aurora  and  given  a  post  as  tally 
clerk,  which  brought  him  a  constant  wage. 

It-  was  his  duty  to  look  to  the  incoming  sugar  cane 
and  keep  count  of  everything  that  passed  his  weigh- 
bridge. The  factory  had  commenced  work  again  in  a 
most  energetic  manner  since  the  arrival  of  the  Jesuits. 

Nominally,  however,  it  still  continued  under  the  man- 
agement and  proprietorship  of  Don  Ram6n  Gonzalez, 
whose  house  stood  on  the  far  side  of  Santa  Fe,  with  a 
beautiful  little  daughter,  named  Encarnacion,  just  seven- 
teen, who  reigned  supreme  as  mistress. 

El  Chopo  never  went  to  the  house,  Encarnaci6n  never 
came  to  the  sugar  factory,  yet  in  the  Sunday  procession 
of  carriages  along  the  highway  after  bull-fights  their 
eyes  had  met. 

The  girl  hardly  seemed  to  glance  at  his  tall  figure, 
walking  along  the  roadside  in  his  plain  black  clothes, 
wearing  a  short  braided  jacket,  a  shirt  of  fine  texture, 
and  a  broad-brimmed  hat,  but  women  receive  impressions 
more  rapidly  than  men.  They  have  but  a  second  al- 
lowed them  in  which  to  meet  the  gaze  of  the  other  sex, 
and  in  that  brief  interval  they  have  to  cast  their  reckon- 
ing. El  Chopo,  on  the  other  hand,  looked  at  her  face 
with  steady  admiration. 

Yet  there  happened,  what  happens  sometimes  to  men 
and  women  without  their  ever  knowing  it  afterwards. 
•They  observed  each  other  closely,  but  unconsciously. 
How  little  either  of  them  guessed  that  among  those 
many  faces  in  the  crowded  promenade  one  face  had  left 
a  secret  impression,  unseen  at  present,  but  capable  of 
development  like  a  photographic  film,  when  submitted 
to  certain  conditions. 

One  morning  Don  Ramon  said  to  El  Chopo  with  a 
smile  as  he  passed  the  weighbridge  — 

160 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  The  Father  Rector  of  the  College  wants  to  speak  to 
you  this  evening,  and,  unless  I  am  mistaken,  he  has 
strange  news  for  you." 

In  the  course  of  the  evening,  El  Chopo  presented 
himself  at  the  College,  and  was  at  once  admitted  to 
Padre  Ignacio's  room. 

Closing  the  door  behind  him,  El  Chopo  came  forward 
to  the  priest,  who  seized  him  by  both  hands  and  spoke 
very  kindly  to  him.  There  was  a  certain  light  playing 
in  the  sympathetic  blue  eyes  of  Padre  Ignacio,  and  a 
fondness  in  his  voice,  which  refused  to  be  suppressed. 
These  tokens,  together  with  his  manner  of  leaning  upon 
the  young  man's  shoulder,  and  a  dozen  trivial  symptoms 
of  the  kind  would  have  proved  to  a  keen  observer  that 
some  hidden  force  was  prompting  him.  Only  the 
priest  himself  could  guess  how  irresistible  it  was,  for 
discipline  had  taught  him,  through  many  years,  to  con- 
ceal these  feelings  in  the  presence  of  others. 

As  for  El  Chopo,  he  was  so  accustomed  to  what  he 
thought  was  his  uncle's  natural  kindness  and  keen 
sympathy  that  he  never  felt  any  surprise.  Padre  Igna- 
cio claimed  to  be  his  father's  brother,  and  he  was  El 
Chopo's  oracle,  his  hero,  and  almost  his  divinity. 

No  difficulty  confronted  him  but  what  the  Jesuit,  seat- 
ing himself  by  his  side,  patiently  attacked  and  van- 
quished it,  throwing  upon  it  a  light  of  such  purity 
and  brilliance  that  the  pupil  would  turn  from  his  admira- 
tion of  the  masterpiece  to  a  yet  more  earnest  admira- 
tion of  the  master. 

Padre  Ignacio  was  so  sympathetic  that  he  was  never 
guilty  of  losing  himself  in  a  maze  of  technicality  when 
expounding  a  favourite  subject.  His  eyes  were  con- 
stantly turned  towards  his  listener,  he  watched  every 
transient  light  and  shadow  that  passed  across  one's 
face,  and  his  swift  correspondence  to  one's  impressions 
M  161 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

was  so  subtle  and  yet  so  natural  that  one  seemed  to 
imbibe  his  meaning  from  other  sources  than  those 
dependent  upon  his  expression,  his  gesture,  and  his 
voice.  He  was  gifted,  in  fact,  with  a  great  magnetic 
power  which  age  and  sadness  seemed  to  have  developed 
and  matured. 

When  he  explained  a  difficulty,  he  used  only  such 
words  and  such  similes  as  his  listener  was  well 
acquainted  with,  and  when  he  had  concluded,  one 
had  the  impression  that  a  slumbering  remembrance  had 
been  awakened  rather  than  that  anything  new  and 
strange  had  been  imparted.  Indeed,  it  was  curious 
that  whilst  admiring  the  beauty  of  some  combination  of 
Nature's  forces,  one  wondered  that  — being  so  palpable 
—  one  had  not  seen  it  before.  Then,  gradually,  would 
come  an  impression  that  one  had  seen  it,  but  forgotten. 

His  noble  face  seemed  so  incapable  of  deception,  his 
voice  so  innocent  of  harshness,  that  all  who  came  in 
contact  with  him  were  drawn  towards  him.  His  novices 
loved  him,  his  subordinates  came  into  his  presence  with 
gratefulness,  and  when  his  brow  clouded  and  he  used 
the  lash  which  no  one  could  wield  so  well  and  with 
such  dignity,  one  felt  that  the  sky  itself  had  become 
obscured,  and  that  a  bitter  wind  was  moaning  across 
the  vega. 

Padre  Ignacio  did  not  at  first  seem  anxious  to  broach 
the  subject  which  evidently  lay  before  him.  With  his 
hands  behind  his  back  he  paced  gently  up  and  down 
the  room,  gazing  almost  moodily  towards  El  Chopo,  and 
exchanging  remarks  upon  matters  of  everyday  interest, 
at  times  standing  in  his  balcony  and  looking  out  upon 
the  orchard.  It  is  possible  that  he  was  loth  to  con- 
clude with  the  present  and  to  plunge  into  a  future 
whose  course  lay  in  treacherous  waters,  unknown  and 
unexplored. 

162 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

When  at  length  El  Chopo  asked  him  what  news  was 
in  the  air,  the  Jesuit  replied  that  there  was  much  news, 
and  very  serious  news. 

"  But  good  news  ?  "  rejoined  El  Chopo,  with  a  smile. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  the  Jesuit,  standing  in  front 
of  him  where  he  sat.  "  I  cannot  tell.  It  depends  so 
much  upon  yourself.  In  the  first  place  your  father  is 
dead,  which  makes  a  bad  beginning." 

"  I  never  knew  him,  I  do  not  remember  seeing  him  ; 
I  cannot  grieve  for  him,  but  I  will  pray  for  him," 
replied  the  other  after  a  pause. 

"All  that  is  very  natural,"  said  Padre  Ignacio,  re- 
suming his  walk  to  and  fro.  "Had  you  said  less  it 
had  been  unkind.  Had  you  said  more,  it  would  have 
sounded  falsely.  The  news  reached  me  last  night.  It 
is  very  many  years  since  I  saw  him,  and  God  rest  his 
soul ! " 

The  Jesuit  paused  and  gazed  towards  the  orchard. 
There  was  a  tranquil  sadness  in  his  voice,  which  no 
doubt  had  been  preceded  by  some  emotion  during  the 
previous  night.  Presently  he  continued  — 

"  His  last  act  was  to  leave  you  possessed  of  more 
than  half  his  fortune." 

When  he  had  pronounced  these  words,  the  Jesuit 
slowly  turned  his  head  and  looked  at  the  young  man's 
face. 

"  And  my  brother  ? "  asked  El  Chopo  after  a  pause, 
during  which  his  heart  was  beating  very  fast. 

"  I  do  not  know.  Up  to  the  present  we  have  only 
heard  that  he  is  in  Filipinas." 

"  The  remainder  will  have  been  left  to  Pelao,  surely  ? " 

"  Let  us  hope  that  something  has  been  left  to  him," 
replied  the  priest. 

"  Then,"  said  El  Chopo,  rising  excitedly  from  where 
he  sat,  "  I  am  a  rich  man !  " 

163 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  You  are,  comparatively,  a  rich  man,"  affirmed  Padre 
Ignacio,  and  heaved  a  sigh. 

"  But,  my  uncle,  will  you  not  rejoice  with  me  ?  " 

"  Rejoice  that  you  have  found  the  wings  to  fly  with  ? " 
answered  the  priest,  with  a  wistful  smile. 

"  How,  to  fly  with  ?  If  to  soar  above  my  present 
state  of  ignorance,  to  attempt  such  flights  of  know- 
ledge as  I  had  never  hoped  for,  to  have  my  time  my 
own,  to  travel  into  far  countries,  if  all  these  things  be 
flying,  why,  where  is  the  harm  ?  Would  you  have  it 
otherwise  ? " 

So  gladsome  was  the  light  in  the  young  man's  eyes, 
so  transfigured  were  his  handsome  features  with  joyful 
surprise,  that  Padre  Ignacio's  admiration  and  love  for 
him  knew  no  bounds,  especially  when  he  remembered 
that  this  news  might  be  the  death  knell  of  their  fellow- 
ship. He  longed  to  draw  his  dear  son  towards  him,  to 
fold  him  in  his  arms  and  cry  to  him,  "  Thou  art  indeed 
my  son,  and  I  thy  father." 

He  came  towards  him  and  placed  a  hand  on  either 
shoulder,  then  gazed  into  his  eyes  with  a  mighty 
yearning. 

"  If,"  said  the  priest,  "  henceforward  we  be  destined 
to  part,  remember  that  though  I  am  only  your  father's 
brother,  I  love  you  as  though  I  were  your  father  him- 
self. You  are  much  more  to  me  than  a  beloved  pupil ; 
you  seem  as  though  you  were  my  beloved  son.  What 
little  sadness  you  perceive  in  me  is  selfishness.  It  is 
regret  at  the  parting  I  know  to  be  inevitable,  at  the 
journeying  forth  that  I  myself  shall  be  the  first  to 
counsel,  for  I  know  it  to  be  for  your  welfare." 

"  Do  not  feel  any  such  regrets,"  replied  El  Chopo,  "  for 
they  are  misplaced.  If  I  go,  it  is  but  to  return.  I  love 
Santa  Fe,  and  I  love  the  people ;  above  all  I  reverence 
you,  my  uncle,  to  whom  I  owe  what  little  good  is  in  me. 

164 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Nay !  smile  not,  it  is  the  truth.  And  since  you  are  so 
bent  upon  my  banishment,  where  had  you  thought  of 
sending  me?  " 

"  It  is  for  yourself  to  choose,"  said  Padre  Ignacio,  "  if, 
however,  you  ask  me,  I  had  already  thought  out  a  plan." 

"  And  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  First,  that  you  go  to  the  University  of  Salamanca 
for  a  while,  then  to  a  certain  university  in  France  for  a 
year  or  more.  In  both  of  these  places  I  can  find  you 
friends,  and  powerful  ones." 

The  young  man  rose  and  walked  thoughtfully  towards 
the  balcony,  whose  glass  windows  he  opened  wide  apart. 
A  gentle  breeze  was  stirring  in  the  orchard.  From  the 
miles  and  miles  of  orange  groves  down  in  the  vale  the 
rising  air  had  gathered  a  basic  scent,  and  now  it  came 
filtering  in  among  the  citron  and  lemon  blossoms  and 
Lady-of-the-Night,  from  which  it  received  a  yet  more 
subtle  perfume  as  it  passed.  When  the  wind  came 
direct  from  the  West,  the  scent  of  orange  blossom  pre- 
vailed and  permeated  everything ;  when  it  veered  round 
somewhat  to  terral  it  blew  straight  through  the  gardens, 
and  coming  from  the  land,  was  hotter,  and  bearing  more 
essence  of  Lady-of-the-Night,  was  more  voluptuous,  and 
there  was  that  stillness  about  the  evening  that,  taken  in 
conjunction  with  a  sudden  rearing  of  brilliant  castles  in 
the  air,  made  El  Chopo  yield  himself  to  his  intoxication 
in  silence. 

He  stood  leaning  upon  the  balcony  for  several  minutes. 
The  Jesuit  understood  his  sensations,  and  for  a  while  re- 
frained from  interrupting  him.  Presently,  however,  he 
went  and  stood  beside  him. 

"  What  does  all  this  mean,  to  your  mind  ?  "  he  asked, 
indicating  with  a  wave  of  his  hand  the  whole  scene  in 
front  of  them. 

"  I  do  not  follow  you." 

165 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  I  will  explain  myself.  One  looks  upon  the  sea  when 
it  is  lashed  by  a  furious  gale,  and  it  means  '  Anger.'  One 
looks  into  its  clear  depths  in  the  dark  shadow  of  a  cliff 
and  fails  to  penetrate,  and  it  means  '  Mystery.'  One 
hears  the  autumn  wind  blowing  the  dead  russet-coloured 
leaves  about  the  ground  and  moaning  through  the  naked 
branches,  and  it  means  '  Death.'  But  now,  I  ask  you, 
what  does  this  scene  before  us  mean  ?  The  various 
components,  stars,  flowers,  and  perfumes,  to  a  young 
man  your  age,  surely  they  mean  one  thing  and  one 
alone  ? " 

El  Chopo  did  not  answer  for  a  little,  but  continued 
leaning  his  chin  upon  his  hands.  At  last,  turning  towards 
the  priest,  he  laughed  and  made  reply  — 

"  I  were  a  hypocrite  did  I  pretend  to  ignore  that  these 
letters  spell  '  Love.'  But  why  do  you  insist  that  /  am 
best  fitted  to  read  them  ?  On  the  one  hand  I  should  say 
that  a  woman  of  my  age  would  be  more  apt  to  read  them  ; 
on  the  other  it  would  seem  that  even  you,  a  priest  and 
celibate,  are  able  to  spell  out  the  lesson  that  Nature  has 
written  so  fairly  upon  her  blackboard." 

"  Nevertheless,  you,  dear  nephew,  are  of  the  type 
above  all  others  to  whom  this  lesson  will  appeal.  And 
all  the  more  so  because,  till  the  present,  you  have  known 
less  than  any  other  man  what  love  for  woman  is  like. 
It  has  not  yet  come  upon  you.  That  is  a  mere  question 
of  chance." 

The  Jesuit  turned  inwards  and  commenced  to  pace 
the  room  slowly,  his  hands  behind  his  back,  his  eyes 
bent  upon  the  black  and  white  tiles  of  the  floor.  After 
a  pause  he  resumed  his  speaking  — 

"  I  once  knew  just  such  another  young  man  as  you. 
He  was  consumed  by  the  same  desire  for  knowledge. 
He  believed  that  he  had  one  great  quest  in  life,  to  find 
the  Truth.  Like  you,  he  had  never  looked  into  a 

166 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

woman's  eyes,  and  like  you  he  started  upon  his  quest 
filled  with  enthusiasm.  Like  you,  without  knowing  it, 
he  was  susceptible,  and — " 

"  /  susceptible  ?  " 

"  Alas,  how  well  I  know  every  sign  and  signal,  every 
trait  and  feature  in  this  compound  of  weak  flesh  and 
blood  before  me.  Your  mother  was  a  North-country 
woman,  a  Vizcai'na.  Her  father  had  been  a  giant.  The 
hugeness  of  bone  and  muscle  skipped  a  generation. 
In  you,  it  blossoms  forth  again.  Lo !  these  biceps  and 
this  mighty  chest,  these  limbs  like  oak  trees,  and  these 
hands  that  might  wrench  a  bull's  horns  asunder.  Add 
one  or  two  traits  of  comeliness  that  mark  your  face,  and, 
so  much  for  your  mother  !  The  Vizcaino  prevails  in 
you,  I  hope.  But,  alas  —  your  father!  Oh,  my  poor 
young  man  — your  father!" 

Here  the  priest  sighed  heavily  and  walked  away  deep 
in  thought.  When  he  returned,  with  hands  behind  his 
back,  he  looked  at  El  Chopo  and  went  on  again  — 

"Your  father  was  a  monster  of  susceptibility,  a 
prodigy  of  weakness.  Impulsive  of  resolve,  yet  frail 
of  execution,  imagining  great  heroics,  yet  unable  to  ful- 
fil the  most  common  obligations.  His  ideal  of  nobility 
was  so  soaring  that  no  mortal  has  ever  attained  it,  yet 
his  selfish  maltreatment  and  neglect  of  —  " 

"  Hist ! "  cried  El  Chopo  half  seriously,  "  a  piece  of 
that  same  man  stands  here  before  you  and  bids  you  talk 
more  kindly  of  my  father." 

"Why  —  there  spoke  your  mother,"  said  the  priest. 

"  Was  she,  then,  kinder  than  my  father  ? " 

"  Aye,"  replied  the  priest  sadly.  "  Enough,  though, 
of  your  father  !  Unless  I  am  mistaken,  you  have  much 
of  the  self-same  stuff  in  you.  Your  mother  also  had 
less  of  common  sense  than  of  romance,  so  people  said. 
With  such  parents  my  only  wonder  is  that  the  inevitable 

167 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

has  not   already  come   to   pass.     And  when  at  last  it 
happens  —  Adios !  " 

Padre  Ignacio  had  returned  to  where  the  young  man 
stood  in  the  balcony,  and  rested  his  hands  upon  his 
shoulder. 

"  '  Good-bye  ? '  and  why  ? " 

"  Ah,  how  well  I  know  it  all ! "  returned  the  priest, 
with  a  calm  smile.  "I  have  been  at  your  elbow  this 
many  a  month,  for  two  or  three  years,  in  fact,  and  what 
have  I  done  ?  Has  knowledge  made  you  happier  ?  It 
is  seldom  that  it  brings  such  consequences.  And  for 
myself,  I  have  been  growing  too  fond  of  you,  I  have 
been  weaving  a  net  for  my  own  entrapping,  and  shortly 
must  see  it  cast.  But  enough  of  an  old  man's  morbid 
lamentations!  I  see  the  world  through  misty  spec- 
tacles. Enough  of  selfishness !  Let  me  endeavour  to 
look  out  upon  the  world  awhile  through  the  spectacles 
that  you  are  wearing.  And  what  shall  I  find  ?  Stars 
that  mean  hope,  flowers  that  mean  beauty,  perfumes  that 
mean  delight.  Does  it  need  a  great  prophet  to  foretell 
where  these  .things  must  lead  a  gallant  cavalier  like  you, 
just  come  into  a  fortune  ?  " 

"  I  am  no  cavalier,"  laughed  El  Chopo. 

"Why,  there  you  are  mistaken,"  said  the  Jesuit, 
standing  before  him  in  the  balcony  with  folded  arms, 
and  a  fond  and  gloating  look  in  his  eyes.  "You  needed 
but  one  thing,  fine  feathers.  And  they  have  come  to 
you.  Great  shoulders  like  those,  arms  that  could  hug 
an  ox,  eyes  that  never  flinch,  what  were  these  things 
meant  for  ? " 

"  To  make  a  scholar,  with  God's  help,"  replied  El 
Chopo,  still  very  merrily,  "  and  to  take  me  a  few  poor 
miles  along  the  road  that  my  master  has  travelled  be- 
fore me." 

"  In  quest  of  what  ? " 

1 68 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  In  quest  of  —  j  vaya !  —  in  quest  of  knowledge.  To 
dig  at  the  root  of  all  things  without  fear." 

"Your  words  fill  me  with  apprehension.  I  am  like 
to  prove  but  poor  encouragement  to-night,  I  fear.  It  is 
my  mood.  Before  you  set  forth  upon  this  quest,  a  word 
of  warning !  I  have  noted  one  tendency  in  you  which 
may  be  your  undoing,  and  end  with  all  your  happiness. 
When  bent  upon  analysis  there  is  nothing  you  hold  too 
sacred  for  experiment.  There  are  some  things  you 
must  not  submit  to  such  a  process." 

"  And  why  not  ?  " 

"  Because  they  are  not  suited  for  it.  Because  we 
have  not  the  reagents  in  our  laboratory  wherewith  to 
treat  them." 

"  Do  not  fear.  If  there  be  aught  that  seems  to  me 
inexplicable,  it  is  sufficient  that  you  believe  it.  To 
differ  from  you  would  seem  to  me  presumption." 

"  That  is  a  frail  basis  whereon  to  build  relief." 

"  It  is  all-sufficient" 

The  eyes  of  the  pupil  met  those  of  the  master,  and  as 
they  smiled  at  one  another  there  seemed  to  be  a  bond  of 
the  keenest  sympathy  between  them,  and  on  one  side  at 
all  events  that  sympathy  was  instinctive. 

The  discussion  was  long  drawn  out,  plans  were  put 
forward  and  projects  considered  at  some  length.  The 
wagon  and  horses  had  climbed  much  higher  above  the 
orchard  before  El  Chopo  turned  to  go,  and  those  on  the 
other  side  of  the  College  had  already  seen  the  lights 
put  out  in  the  fishermen's  huts  on  the  island  of  Lagarto. 
*******  * 

The  next  morning  El  Chopo  sauntered  along  the 
beach  maturing  plans.  The  sunshine  on  the  sea  was 
like  an  emblem  of  his  future  ;  the  Porrinos,  chanting 
and  dragging  in  the  nets,  an  emblem  of  the  past. 

Amongst  the  Porrinos  was  one  Capitan,  no  longer  a 

169 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

budding  minstrel,  but  a  barefooted  toiler,  bending  his 
back  and  pulling  like  a  mule,  but  not  so  strong  and  not 
so  valuable.  Yet  all  of  them  looked  cheerful. 

How  then  should  he  feel,  favoured  by  a  learned  priest, 
able  to  read  and  write,  able  to  take  his  ease,  to  follow 
his  bent,  to  spend  golden  onzas  where  before  he  had 
grudged  an  ochavo  ? 

What  a  fine  world  it  seemed  that  summer's  morning ; 
the  white  faluchas  out  on  the  blue  horizon,  the  ripple 
that  rolled  the  coloured  pebbles  at  his  feet,  the  vega  to 
his  right,  carpeted  with  vivid  green  maize. 

A  boat  .was  just  throwing  out  the  net.  The  fisher- 
men uncovered  and  invoked  Our  Lady  La  Vi'rgen  del 
Carmen.  El  Chopo  took  off  his  hat  and  bowed  his 
head ;  then,  turning  westwards,  he  slowly  walked  along 
the  beach  in  the  direction  of  the  village  cemetery. 

This  walk  was  a  favourite  one  with  those  in  Cinco 
Caminos  who  had  leisure,  and  even  with  people  from 
Santa  Fe.  It  commanded  a  view  of  the  bay  of  Santa 
Fe  with  the  island  of  Lagarto  in  the  middle,  and  the 
hills  and  mountains  inland  behind  the  town. 

The  young  man  was  not  the  only  person  who  had 
chosen  this  promenade,  for  halfway  to  the  cemetery 
he  met  the  village  priest. 

The  priest,  when  he  saw  El  Chopo  advancing  towards 
him  along  the  beach,  was  at  first  disposed  to  turn  away 
from  the  water  and  gain  the  highway,  but,  after  some 
little  hesitation,  kept  on  his  course. 

"  So,"  said  the  priest,  "  you  have  inherited  a  for- 
tune ? " 

"They  tell  me  so." 

"  Ah,  well !  You  know  the  saying,  '  If  there  be  food 
in  the  dovecot,  doves  will  not  be  wanting.' " 

"  To  whom  does  that  apply  ? " 

"  To  nobody  in  particular,  and  to  everybody  in  gen- 
170 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

eral.  Has  it  not  occurred  to  you  that  there  were  those 
who  knew  well  all  along  that  this  wind  would  blow  your 
way  ? " 

"  I  cannot  think  who  should  know  it,  good  Father." 

"  Those  who  know  everything,  those  who  discard 
their  friends  when  once  they  have  done  using  them  as 
ladders,  those  who  will  wring  you  drier  than  a  grape 
skin.  The  Jesuits !  " 

"  You  are  greatly  in  error." 

"  Mistrust  is  the  mother  of  security.  Try  the  receipt 
—  it  will  stand  you  in  good  stead." 

"  Your  receipt  would  make  me  very  unhappy,  good 
Padre." 

"  Well,  you  must  do  as  God  guides  you.  Mind  one 
thing,  you  will  find  borrowers  at  every  corner." 

"  Up  till  now,  no  one  has  asked  me  for  a  real." 

"  Nay,"  chuckled  the  priest,  taking  out  his  snuffbox, 
"  people  do  not  ask  outright." 

He  sniffed  at  the  pinch  of  snuff  with  his  head  first  on 
one  side,  then  on  the  other,  looking  thoughtfully  at  El 
Chopo  the  while. 

"And  what  are  your  plans  —  if  a  village  priest  may 
ask?" 

"  I  shall  leave  Santa  Fe  in  the  course  of  another 
week,  journeying  to  Salamanca.  Thence  I  shall  go 
to  a  college  in  France.  Altogether  I  intend  to  spend 
two  or  three  years  abroad,  devoting  my  time  to 
study." 

"  What  branch  of  study  ?  " 

"  The  history  of  mankind  ;  the  history  of  the  world, 
geology,  botany.  These  are  the  subjects  that  attract 
me  most." 

"  It  will  take  you  more  than  three  years  to  master 
t/icm,"  said  the  priest,  with  a  superior  smile,  as  one 
who  knew. 

171 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  Oh,  I  have  no  hopes  of  '  mastering  them  ' !  "  laughed 
El  Chopo. 

The  priest,  catching  his  thumbs  in  the  armholes  of  his 
vest,  looked  pensively  at  the  young  man  for  a  minute, 
then  said  suddenly  — 

"  What  if  there  were  something  in  existence  that 
altered  your  plans  entirely  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  refer  to  ? "  asked  El  Chopo  in  sur- 
prise. 

"  Ah !  I  do  not  know,  mind,"  replied  the  other, 
with  a  knowing  smile,  half  closing  his  eyes  and  shak- 
ing a  forefinger  in  front  of  him.  "  I  only  said  that 
there  might  be." 

"  You  rouse  my  curiosity." 

"  Do  I  so  ? " 

The  priest  again  lapsed  into  silent  thoughtfulness, 
his  eyes  resting  on  the  Jesuit  College  far  away  on  the 
hillside.  A  slight  shadow  seemed  to  pass  across  his 
face;  then,  pursing  his  lips,  he  suddenly  bade  El 
Chopo  good  morning. 

"The  old  man  grows  no  younger  as  time  goes  on," 
thought  El  Chopo,  "  and  maybe  he  is  getting  near  his 
dotage.  '  Something  to  alter  my  plans  ? '  What  can 
he  mean  ?  Nay,  this  is  mere  jealousy  of  my  good 
friends  up  yonder  in  the  convent,  and  I  am  not  so 
foolish  as  to  take  notice  of  it." 

With  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders  he  continued  along 
the  beach  towards  the  cemetery,  but  sorely  puzzled. 

The  priest,  meanwhile,  wrapt  in  thought,  went  home 
in  search  of  breakfast.  After  his  frugal  meal  was  over, 
he  fell  asleep,  muttering  every  now  and  then  as  if 
dreaming,  and,  waking  up  after  several  hours,  went 
straight  to  a  corner  cupboard,  and  took  down  a  little 
mahogany  casket,  with  brass  bands,  locked,  tied  over, 
and  sealed.  He  sat  for  some  minutes  with  his  left 

172 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

hand  on  his  knee,  balancing  the  casket  in  the  other 
hand,  and  regarding  it  closely  with  a  frown. 

"I  wonder,"  he  soliloquized,  "whether  this  young 
friend  of  ours  has  truly  reached  an  age  of  '  discretion '  ? 
He  can  read  and  write,  yet  —  Pish !  Let  him  have  a 
year  or  two  abroad !  Consorting  with  Jesuits,  he  has 
not  gained  my  confidence.  Nay,  nay,  scanty  'discre- 
tion '  after  all,  to  be  the  dupe  of  yonder  treacherous 
crew. 

"  I  wonder  what  is  inside  ? — Humph  !  —  Neither  light 
nor  heavy,  neither  loud  nor  silent  when  I  shake  it ! " 

Then,  after  a  few  minutes'  pause  — 

"There  be  some  priests,  now  —  "  he  murmured,  and 
slowly  shook  his  head. 

Finally  he  rose  and  replaced  the  casket  in  the 
cupboard  with  a  deep  sigh,  shrugged  his  shoulders 
and  stood  looking  up  at  it  with  his  hands  behind  his 
back. 

"  Virtue,"  said  he  bitterly,  "  was  ever  its  own  reward, 
and  maybe  after  guarding  the  casket  all  these  years  I 
shall  never  be  rewarded  even  with  the  knowledge  of 
its  contents.  'A  great  secret,  that  may  be  of  value, 
when  he  reaches  an  age  of  discretion ! '  Well,  well ! 
He  isn't  discreet  as  yet." 


173 


CHAPTER  XII 

"  Ah !    Sure  within  him  and  without, 
Could  his  dark  wisdom  find  it  out, 
There  must  be  answer  to  his  doubt. 

For  every  worm  beneath  the  moon 
Draws  different  threads,  and  late  and  soon 
Spins,  toiling  out  his  own  cocoon." 

TENNYSON. 

EL  CHOPO  left  one  morning  early  by  the  diligence, 
with  a  mind  as  open  to  convictions  as  any  mind  in 
Santa  Fe,  and  though  he  carried  with  him  certain  beliefs 
and  sentiments  which  were  rooted  pretty  firmly,  his  de- 
termination to  dig  at  the  root  of  all  things  was  about  to 
be  realized.  He  possessed  a  most  wholesome  curiosity, 
a  little  rough  logic,  a  hasty  temper  when  roused  from  his 
dreamy  moods,  and  a  growing  appreciation  for  the  beau- 
tiful in  thought,  or  sound,  or  being,  but  above  all  things 
he  was  very  much  in  earnest. 

In  Salamanca  he  felt  somewhat  lonely,  not  falling  in 
at  first  with  any  genial  companions,  and  being,  truth  to 
tell,  a  little  shunned  by  the  other  collegians,  most  of  whom 
were  well  connected,  boasting  freely  of  their  parents  and 
relations.  El  Chopo,  who  passed  as  "  Seftor  Nieto,"  was 
reticent  on  such  subjects.  It  was  only  natural,  moreover, 
even  with  a  youth  who  had  received  Padre  Ignacio's  in- 
struction, that  one  or  two  trivial  failings  should  have  sur- 
vived the  hard  life  in  Cinco  Caminos.  These,  in  time, 
wore  off. 

As  irony  would  have  it,  the  fellow-student  who  was 
174 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

least  critical  of  the  big  Vizcaino  was  one  Jose"  Ramos 
from  Santa  Fe,  a  person  who  knew  that  he  had  been  a 
fisherman's  donkey  boy,  yet  never  opened  his  mouth  to 
mention  it. 

Jose  Ramos  was  something  of  a  socialist  and  a  rake. 
He  was  that  particular  happy-go-lucky  laugh-while-you- 
can  sort  of  mixture  which  grows  in  Andaluci'a. 

Many  a  Sunday  night  had  he  spent  in  the  little  way- 
side ventorrillos  of  Santa  Fe,  in  one  of  the  summer  ar- 
bours built  of  cane  and  overgrown  with  convolvulus, 
girls  dancing  on  the  table  in  the  lamplight  and  his  com- 
panions steadily  getting  drunk.  Sometimes  these  orgies 
ended  in  broken  glasses  and  bottles,  sometimes  in  women's 
tears,  and  more  than  once  had  knives  been  drawn,  though 
not  by  Jose"  Ramos. 

For  Jose  was  strong  of  nerves  and  kept  his  head,  knew 
how  to  handle  a  knife  as  well  as  any  chulo,  but  had  an 
aversion  to  spilling  blood,  and  certainly  would  not  fight 
about  a  woman. 

In  course  of  time  the  two  young  men  became  very 
friendly,  their  characters  contrasting  so  strongly  that 
each  found  the  other  a^  relief  to  his  own  personality. 
Jose  Ramos  came  to  live  with  El  Chopo.  They  shared 
a  four-roomed  flat. 

Ramos  had  a  splendid  voice,  but  played  the  guitar 
indifferently.  His  repertoire  contained  the  six  least 
decent  songs  of  Santa  Fe,  which  is  saying  much. 

El  Chopo,  who  could  play  the  guitar  fairly  well,  took 
him  in  hand,  showed  him  one  or  two  serenades,  told  him 
he  had  a  voice  like  a  syren,  and  astonished  both  Ramos 
and  himself  with  the  results. 

Jose  Ramos  took  a  chulo's  pleasure  in  practising  with 
the  knife.  A  favourite  trick  of  his  was  to  pierce  an 
egg  with  the  point,  throwing  it  across  the  room.  At 
first  El  Chopo  only  used  to  watch  him.  One  night  he 

175 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

entered  into  competition  with  Jos6,  to  while  away  an 
hour,  for  he  could  not  read  whilst  the  other  was  throw- 
ing knives. 

Each  was  armed  with  a  knife,  but,  by  means  of  a 
large  wooden  button  and  leather  thongs,  each  blade 
was  so  shielded  as  to  expose  but  half  an  inch  of  the 
glittering  point,  a  custom  well  known  to  students  of 
Salamanca  in  those  days.  Each  man  had  a  capa  wound 
round  and  round  his  left  arm  for  parrying  blows.  Jos£ 
would  fetch  blood  from  the  big  Vizcaino,  first  on  the 
left,  then  on  the  right,  and  though  but  a  pin-prick,  the 
defeat  was  maddening. 

On  one  occasion  El  Chopo  rushed  at  the  wiry  little 
Andaluz,  lifted  him  in  his  left  arm,  and,  sticking  his 
half-inch  of  steel  into  his  thigh  with  sheer  brute  force, 
cried  angrily  — 

"  Take  that,  thou  grasshopper  !  Six  of  thy  trade- 
marks have  I  got,  and  by  God,  thou  shalt  have  one  too !  " 

Jose,  wriggling  and  spluttering,  was  so  tickled  by  this 
new  method  of  attack  that  he  could  not  find  breath  to 
answer,  but  when  El  Chopo  set  him  on  his  feet,  stood 
holding  his  sides  with  laughter. 

In  time  El  Chopo  became  more  proficient,  and  all 
Josefs  lunges  were  buried  in  the  capa  on  his  arm,  but 
there  was  one  stroke  which  took  a  deal  of  mastering. 
It  was  an  upward  lunge  at  the  heart,  preceded  by  a 
feint,  and  though  El  Chopo  learnt  it  himself,  he  was 
never  quite  successful  in  defending  it.  In  fact,  it  was 
so  deadly  that  one  could  only  avoid  it  by  skipping  aside, 
and  therefore  to  any  one  attacking  and  leaning  forward, 
it  was  fatal. 

El  Chopo  spent  most  of  his  leisure  in  the  great  library. 
He  felt  a  thrill  of  pleasure  when  he  realized  that  such 
a  large  field  was  thrown  open  for  him  to  browse  in,  suc- 
ceeded, often  enough,  by  a  sigh  of  disappointment  that 

176 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

he  could  only  hope  to  absorb  such  a  small  fraction  of 
this  pile  of  information. 

Then  came  a  crisis  in  his  line  of  thought  and  conduct. 

Leaning  over  his  balcony  one  evening  he  noticed  a 
plainly  dressed  man  step  out  of  a  doorway  across  the 
road  with  a  parcel  under  his  arm.  As  it  so  happened 
he  was  again  standing  in  his  balcony  when  the  same 
man  returned.  His  parcel  had  disappeared.  The  in- 
cident was  trivial,  and  no  doubt  would  have  slipped  his 
memory  had  it  not  been  that  in  the  course  of  the  month 
that  followed,  the  same  man  walked  down  the  street 
with  a  similar  parcel  nearly  every  night. 

One  evening  the  police  lay  in  wait  for  him,  arrested 
him,  and  carried  him  off  to  gaol. 

"Jose,  come  quickly!  Who  is  that  man?"  called  El 
Chopo.  Jose  threw  down  a  pack  of  cards  and  sprang 
to  the  balcony. 

"  j  Caracoles  !  "  he  cried.  "  That  is  a  foreigner,  a 
missionary,  a  man  who  gives  away  Bibles.  His  name 
is  Don  Jaime  (James).  He  sings  most  beautifully, 
through  his  nose." 

El  Chopo  followed  the  matter  up  in  the  newspaper. 
Thanks  to  no  little  influence,  the  prisoner  was  released 
upon  the  understanding  that  he  would  immediately 
leave  the  town.  He  did  nothing  of  the  kind,  hoping,  no 
doubt,  that  he  would  again  be  arrested.  His  enemies 
had  not  sufficient  pertinacity. 

The  matter  roused  El  Chopo's  curiosity.  There  was 
something  weird  about  this  "infidel."  It  was  the  first 
time  that  he  had  come  in  contact  with  such  a  being. 

One  night,  Jose"  being  in  some  dancing  caf6,  he  fol- 
lowed the  missionary,  saw  that  he  entered  a  large  pri- 
vate house  with  many  other  people,  and,  a  few  nights 
later,  gained  admission. 


177 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

The  Roman  Catholic  faith,  according  to  the  speaker, 
was  pure  idolatry.  The  saints,  who  were  merely  mor- 
tals, had  been  magnified  into  gods,  thus  imitating  the 
polytheism  of  the  pagans.  The  acceptation  of  the 
Virgin  Mary  as  a  divinity  corresponded  with  the  wor- 
ship of  Diana  of  Ephesus.  The  Purgatory  of  the 
Catholics  was  merely  the  Hades  of  the  ancients.  The 
Holy  Relics  so  carefully  treasured  by  the  Romish 
Church  were  holy  rubbish.  The  Pope  was  an  impostor 
and  a  hypocrite  who  deserved  a  few  years  in  gaol.  The 
miracles  of  the  saints  were  lies.  The  confession  and 
absolution  of  sins  were  ludicrous.  The  celibacy  of  the 
clergy  was  unnatural  and  incited  these  arch-offenders 
to  hideous  crimes  at  the  confessional.  Penance  was 
laughable.  The  theory  of  Transubstantiation  was  blas- 
phemous. The  use  of  incense,  bell,  and  candles  was 
heresy.  The  trinkets  on  the  Altar  should  be  cast  upon 
the  dust  heap. 

******»» 

This  was  the  first  occasion  upon  which  he  had  ever 
heard  an  open  attack  on  principles  which  had  gradually 
become  part  of  his  very  being,  traditions  which  were 
cherished  and  most  sacred.  It  came  upon  him  like  a 
thunderclap,  and  held  him  spellbound,  then  sent  him 
home  tingling  with  indignation.  He  confessed  to  the 
Jesuit  fathers  this  visit  to  the  Protestant  meeting  house, 
did  penance  for  it,  and  was  forbidden  to  go  again. 

The  rough  and  ready  sermon,  full  of  strong  invective, 
well  delivered  from  a  powerful  pair  of  lungs,  and  in  a 
tone  that  had  conviction  close  behind  it,  haunted  him 
day  and  night.  At  length  he  miserably  admitted  that 
there  was  some  grain  of  truth  in  what  the  missionary 
had  said.  He  read  the  heathen  mythology,  he  found 
the  prototypes  of  nearly  all  his  saints,  his  rites  and 
holy  days,  and  —  horror  !  —  he  trembled  to  think  that 

178 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

he  saw  still  more  prototypes  than  those  to  which  the 
speaker  had  referred. 

Day  after  day  the  man  stepped  out  of  the  same 
doorway  just  across  the  way  at  nightfall.  He  grew 
into  the  way  of  watching  for  him.  There  was  some- 
thing awful  and  unholy  about  this  anarchist  of  rites 
and  ceremonies.  What  was  worse,  he  had  a  Satanic 
magnetism  for  El  Chopo,  who  felt  himself  yielding 
inch  by  inch. 

Acting  on  a  sudden  impulse,  Jos6  again  absent,  he 
went  to  the  meeting  house  once  more.  Another  fiery 
discourse !  This  time  the  Romish  Church  was  only 
lashed  occasionally.  The  subject  was  sin  in  general; 
the  remedy,  hell  fire. 

He  returned  home  in  a  fit  of  deepest  gloom  and  never 
went  to  the  meeting  house  again.  Yet  a  change  had 
already  begun  in  his  ideas.  His  pitiless  reason  made 
war  on  the  traditions  of  his  youth,  and,  wounding  his 
passionate  love  of  the  beautiful  in  the  stern  fight,  hurled 
on  one  side  the  curtain  of  Holy.  Faith. 

Old  convictions  were  coming  loose  like  rocks  under- 
mined by  the  sea.  Two  or  three  of  them  tumbled 
down  forthwith.  He  had  brought  home  with  him  a  Bible 
from  the  meeting  house.  It  was  printed  in  Castilian. 

What  struck  him  most  was  the  humility  of  Christ, 
His  poverty,  His  riding  into  Jerusalem  on  an  ass. 

He  passed  in  review  the  gorgeous  pomp  of  Rome, 
the  gold  and  silver  and  jewels,  the  crowns  and  silks  and 
satins,  in  a  word  the  wealth  of  the  Romish  Church,  her 
arrogance  and  luxury. 

Could  this  meek  and  lowly  One  who  preached  humility 
have  intended  that  these  vanities  should  be  flaunted  by 
His  Church  ?  Then  his  mind  wandered  to  the  mission- 
ary, his  hell  fire,  the  sternly  plain  meeting  house,  the 
absence  of  all  supernatural  atmosphere. 

179 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

He  buried  himself  in  his  books,  but  the  question  of  the 
creeds  had  a  fascination  for  him  that  would  not  be  refused. 

He  found  that  the  Buddhists  believed  in  no  God  at 
all ;  he  was  horrified  to  learn  that  the  most  generally 
accepted  creed  was  nothing  less  than  atheism. 

He  found  that  there  were  millions  of  people  who 
worshipped  the  sun,  others  that  worshipped  Satan, 
others  that  worshipped  nothing. 

He  found  that  God  had  not  only  spoken  to  Moses,  He 
had  also  spoken  to  Mahomet,  of  which  there  was  equally 
strong  testimony. 

Within  a  few  months  of  reaching  Salamanca  El  Chopo 
had  become  unhappy.  He  tried  to  divert  his  thoughts  to 
other  matters  than  religion,  but  found  it  impossible  to  do 
so.  After  all,  he  told  himself,  it  was  the  one  great  ques- 
tion of  a  man's  life,  and,  as  such  must  be  threshed  out. 

He  tried  to  reconcile  the  various  religions  of  man- 
kind. It  seemed  to  him  impossible.  He  studied  the 
outlines  of  the  most  prominent  creeds  with  greater 
attention.  He  argued  the  matter  for  another  month. 
He  fell  into  a  slough  of  despond. 

Jos6  did  his  best  to  rescue  his  friend  from  this  de- 
spondency. One  lovely  summer's  morning  El  Chopo  sat 
poring  over  his  books.  He  had  forgotten  to  open  the 
windows  of  the  balcony  which  looked  upon  the  fruit- 
sellers'  stalls  towards  the  right.  The  sun  was  beating 
down  fiercely  upon  the  blue  and  white  striped  awning 
over  the  windows,  though  a  lazy  breeze  swayed  it  sleepily 
to  and  fro. 

In  came  lazybones  Jose",  rubbing  his  eyes,  blinking  at 
the  fierce  sunshine,  and  crying  "  Pouf !  "  lunged  open  the 
folding  windows  of  the  balcony  and  called  for  his  cake 
and  coffee. 

"  You  are  late,"  said  the  early  bird  presently,  looking 
up  from  his  reading. 

1 80 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  He  who  rises  early,"  replied  Jose,  "  must  have  an 
uneasy  conscience,  whereas  he  who  sits  up  late  enough 
will  gain  experience." 

"Of  a  kind." 

"  Humph  !  Of  a  kind  that  would  do  you  no  harm. 
And  what  have  you  been  doing  ? " 

"  Reading  and  reading." 

"  j  Ya !  '  Since  you  know  everything,'  said  the  wolf, 
'  and  I  know  nothing,  pray  tell  me  what  I  dreamed  this 
morning ! '  What  book  is  that  you  are  consoling  your- 
self with  ? " 

"The  Bible  in  Spanish." 

"  Ouf  !    No  wonder  !   What  a  curious  animal  you  are  !  " 

"  But  it  should  do  me  ho  harm." 

"  The  devil  stands  hard  by  the  crucifix !  Why  don't 
you  go  to  the  bull-fights  ?  " 

"  Because  I  go  to  man  for  advice,  to  the  bull  for 
horns." 

"  And  what  is  your  trouble  ?  " 

"  I  am  fast  becoming  an  infidel  like  you." 

"  My  God ! "  cried  Jos6,  looking  very  startled  and 
opening  his  eyes.  "  Don't  call  me  an  infidel !  " 

"  Why  not  ?  You  are  one  !  You  treat  life  as  a  huge 
joke,  you  can't  take  religion  seriously,  you  never  go 
to  confession.  You  are  like  all  the  Andaluces  of  your 
sex.  You  scarcely  know  a  word  of  the  Scriptures  save 
what  you  have  gleaned  from  the  processions,  and  the 
rest  —  to  swear  by." 

"What!"  said  Jose,  with  some  signs  of  genuine  in- 
dignation. "  You  tell  me,  me,  that  I  do  not  know  the 
Scriptures  ? " 

"  Aye !  What  do  you  know  of  them  ?  What  was 
the  beginning  of  the  world  ? " 

" ;  Ea ! "  cried  Jos6,  "  I  must  have  wine  for  that, 
comrade,  not  coffee  !  " 

181 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Whereupon  he  went  to  the  cupboard,  took  out  a 
bottle,  filled  a  glass  to  the  brim  with  golden  sherry, 
and,  raising  it  on  high,  placed  one  foot  upon  his 
chair. 

"  In  six  days,"  said  he,  "  God  made  heaven  and 
earth  and  Andalucia,  and  on  the  seventh  day  He  sent 
His  angels  to  wait  for  Him  in  heaven ;  He  left  the 
earth  for  beasts  and  men  to  roam  on,  and  sat  Him  down 
to  rest  in  Andalucia." 

Jos6  drank  down  his  wine  and  picked  up  the  guitar. 
A  different  atmosphere  seemed  to  have  come  into  being 
since  his  arrival.  To  be  sure  he  had  opened  the  win- 
dows, and  let  in  a  deal  of  morning  air  and  woman's 
laughter.  From  outside  came  the  chatter  of  trim  ser- 
vant maids  who,  with  basket  on  arm,  were  tripping 
with  neat  little  feet  between  the  stalls  of  the  fruit- 
sellers,  besieged  by  students  and  soldiers  whom  they 
pretended  not  to  see. 

"  Come,  Sir  Studious,"  said  Jos6,  laughing  and  pluck- 
ing at  his  guitar ;  "  I  will  show  you  that  I  know  a  hymn 
or  two,  as  well.  Listen  — 

"  Here  burns  my  poor  wax  candle 

Thy  holy  shrine  without : 

And  faith  !  it  were  poor  service 

To  blow  my  candle  out"  l 

"JoseV*  said  El  Chopo,  half  smiling,  half  serious, 
"  wise  fellows  like  myself  that  read  such  a  mighty  lot 
are  generally  the  greatest  fools." 

"  This  morning  I  am  a  philosopher,  eh  ?  One  never 
knows !  Yesterday  I  went  to  bed  an  ass.  Whilst  yet 
I  sit  in  the  chair  of  Philosophy,  let  me  tell  you  of  a 
grave  fault,  common  to  all  Northern  blood  in  general, 
characteristic  of  yourself  in  particular.  Sir  Thoughtful, 

1  From  the  Spanish. 
182 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

you  are  too  serious  !  Life  is  a  rippling  joke,  and  if  not 
—  the  sooner  we  say  good-bye  to  it  the  better.  I  have 
noticed  you  out  of  the  corner  of  my  eye,  giving  too 
much  importance  to  everything.  You  are  too  observ- 
ant of  the  calamities,  too  neglectful  of  the  blessings 
of  this  world.  Believe  me,  there  is  nothing  bad  in 
Spain,  with  the  exception  of  things  that  talk,  and 
even  some  of  them  are  bearable  —  in  petticoats.  It 
seems  to  pain  you,  immensely,  that  God  should  give 
nuts  to  those  that  have  no  teeth.  He  did  it  for  the 
fun  of  seeing  good  souls  like  you  attempt  to  crack  them." 
"  Go  on  !  No  price  is  too  great  for  good  advice." 
"  And  there  is  no  better  looking-glass  than  a  friend. 
You  know  the  old  saying,  '  Whither  goest  thou,  Grief  ? 
I  go  where  I  am  used  to  going.'  You  are  one  of  those 
who,  through  being  too  earnest,  will  always  give  Grief 
a  welcome,  j  Caracoles !  If  you  trouble  so  much  over 
a  question  like  religion,  what  will  you  do  when  your 
sweetheart  plays  you  false  ?  It  will  be  a  devil  of  a  blow 
for  you  because  you  were  born  to  be  true,  instead  of 
like  me.  I  believe  in  the  lame  beggar's  theory.  If 
he  always  stood  at  one  door  begging  he  wouldn't  make 
much  of  a  living  at  it,  so  he  goes  from  door  to  door. 
And  so  do  I  —  from  window  to  window.  One  cannot 
be  faithful  when  women  are  so  bewitching,  for  Beauty 
and  Chastity  had  ever  a  standing  quarrel,  and  when  they 
fall  out  the  devil  gets  a  dinner." 

Whereat,  having  finished  his  breakfast,  he  flung 
aside  his  chair,  picked  up  his  guitar  once  more,  and 
sang  — 

"  Thy  father's  a  pastry-cook, 

Love,  it  would  seem, 
Else,  why  are  thy  lips  made  of 
Strawberry  cream  ?  " l 

1  From  the  Spanish. 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

This  he  sang  in  a  certain  fantastical  manner,  turning 
his  eyes  up  towards  an  imaginary  balcony.  At  the  end 
of  the  verse  he  smacked  his  lips  as  though  in  the  act  of 
kissing,  and  laughing  at  El  Chopo. 

"  That,"  said  he,  "  is  my  idea  of  wooing.  This  should 
be  yours." 

Whereupon  he  assumed  the  tragic  frown  of  a  de- 
spairing lover,  and  chanted  in  as  deep  a  bass  as  he  was 
able  — 

"  There  is  no  pain  so  sad  as  dying, 

But  if  there  be, 

Look  down  where  true  love  stands  a-sighing, 
And  thou  shalt  see." 1 

El  Chopo  laughed  good-humouredly,  and  clapped  the 
little  Andaluz  between  the  shoulders  with  his  heavy  hand, 
which  made  him  wince. 

"  We  were  talking  of  religion,"  said  Jos6  presently, 
after  he  had  been  looking  out  from  the  balcony  at  the 
market-place,  "  and  that  reminds  me  of  something. 
You,  who  are  so  fond  of  Santa  Fe,  perhaps  you  might 
care  to  see  a  piece  of  it  this  very  day  ?  " 

"  Aye !  "  said  El  Chopo,  "  what  sort  of  '  piece  '  ?  " 

"  In  petticoats." 

"  I  might  have  known  it !  " 

"  Hist !     They  are  nun's  petticoats." 

"Oh!" 

"  Or  soon  will  be.     What  o'clock  is  it  ? " 

"  Mid-day." 

"  Then  put  on  your  hat  and  your  most  sanctimonious 
air,  for  already  we  are  late  for  the  wedding." 

Jos6  led  the  way  to  a  church  on  the  outskirts  of 
Salamanca.  Beside  it  stood  a  convent  which  had  evi- 
dently been  half  demolished,  but  was  now  restored. 

In  the  church  was  a  great  concourse  of  people  in 

1  From  the  Spanish. 
184 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

holiday  dress,  and,  sure  enough,  El  Chopo  recognized 
a  few  faces  from  Santa  Fe.  One,  Dolores  Gunalon,  a 
young  girl  of  eighteen,  in  lovely  bridal  garments,  a  gar- 
land of  orange  blossom  upon  her  head,  was  kneeling 
beside  the  altar. 

"  Dolores,  of  the  family  of  Gunalon  of  Santa  Fe," 
whispered  Jose  to  El  Chopo,  as  they  knelt  in  a  remote 
corner  of  the  dark  church  listening  to  the  organ. 

"And  those  that  I  recognize,  they  will  be  her  rela- 
tions ?  " 

"  A  few.  Her  father  and  brothers  will  not  have  any- 
thing to  do  with  it.  Yonder,  kneeling  behind  that 
rush  chair,  is  one  of  her  schoolfellows.  They  used  to 
be  taken  for  sisters." 

El  Chopo  turned  his  eyes  from  the  bride  to  a  young 
girl,  who,  overcome  by  emotion,  was  kneeling,  with  a 
maidservant  upon  her  left,  among  the  congregation. 

The  young  men,  withdrawn  in  the  shadows  of  the 
church,  and  not  far  distant  from  these  two  women, 
were  able  to  see  them  quite  distinctly  by  the  rosy  light 
of  a  window  which  was  above  them  in  the  ancient 
nave. 

El  Chopo  thought  that  he  had  never  seen  so  heavenly 
a  vision  as  this  young  girl.  Her  face  was  most  spiritu- 
ally beautiful,  and  once  when  she  turned  her  dark  eyes 
towards  the  shadows  where  he  stood,  and  gazed  far 
past  him  with  teardrops  glistening  upon  her  sweeping 
lashes,  he  felt  such  a  delicious  thrill  pass  through  his 
heart  that  he  grew  pale.  He  could  not  avert  his  gaze, 
and  presently  Jose"  whispered  to  him  behind  his  hat  — 

"  I  have  been  watching  you  these  ten  minutes,  com- 
rade. I  never  thought  you  had  so  keen  an  eye  for  a 
well-turned  figure  and  a  pretty  face." 

"  Hist !  "  said  El  Chopo  resentfully,  pushing  him  with 
his  elbow. 

185 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  As  you  will.    But  that  was  not  what  we  came  to  see." 

A  slight  movement  and  whispering  among  the  people 
caused  them  to  be  silent.  The  bishop  had  finished  his 
address  to  the  young  girl  and  two  nuns  brought  in  a 
great  salver,  on  which  rested  the  spotless  white  uniform 
of  a  novice.  On  this  he  bestowed  his  blessing.  The 
nuns,  with  the  mother  superior  and  the  bride,  then  left 
the  church  and  passed  through  a  small  dark  chapel,  in 
the  side  of  which  was  a  cancela  or  passage,  communi- 
cating with  the  convent.  All  the  people  went  shuffling 
and  whispering  into  this  side  chapel,  in  which  were  a 
few  oak  stools  and  rush-covered  chairs,  and  along  each 
side  of  the  dark  passage  were  stone  seats.  Halfway 
along  this  passage  was  a  beautifully  wrought  iron  gate 
which  closed  behind  the  procession,  and  two  silent 
nuns,  each  with  a  great  lighted  candle  in  one  hand, 
stood  guarding  it  and  looking  towards  the  chapel. 
With  the  candle  flames  close  before  them  they  could 
see  nobody,  but  the  light  reflected  from  their  white 
coiffures  and  white  faces  gave  them  the  appearance  of 
wax  saints. 

Those  seated  in  the  passage  considered  themselves 
outside  the  threshold  of  the  church  and  commenced  to 
talk,  at  first  in  whispers.  Then,  when  a  third  nun  came 
smiling  past  the  gates  with  a  silver  tray,  holding  small 
glasses  of  wine  and  yet  smaller  cakes,  the  people  re- 
garded this  as  official  sanction  of  their  merriment. 
The  nun  only  gave  to  those  in  the  cancela,  but  glasses 
were  passed  on  into  the  farthest  shadowc  of  the  chapel, 
which  she  refused  to  notice  and  went  back  for  a  further 
supply. 

El  Chopo  with  Jose"  beside  him  in  the  chapel  stood 
looking  towards  the  gate,  for  upon  the  left-hand  side 
sat  the  beautiful  young  girl  whom  he  had  seen  in  the 
church,  and  beside  her  was  her  maid.  Both  maid  and 

1 86 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

mistress  seemed  to  be  talking  with  some  excitement, 
and  the  lady,  having  dried  her  tears,  had  even  accepted 
a  tiny  glass  of  wine  which  she  merely  tasted,  then 
handed  it  to  her  maid. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  El  Chopo  impulsively. 

"  What  ?  "  asked  Jose. 

"  Nothing.  Only  that  I  would  give  my  right  hand  for 
the  remainder  of  that  wine." 

"  Pooh  !     Nothing  so  easy  !  " 

The  Andaluz  stepped  away  towards  the  iron  gates. 

"  Jose,"  whispered  El  Chopo,  bending  forward  and 
crimsoning  with  shame,  "  come  back,  you  mad  buffoon ; 
by  God,  I  will  shake  the  breath  out  of  you  when  we 
get  home.  My  God  !  my  God  !  " 

But  whilst  the  big  Vizcaino  stood  opening  and  clench- 
ing his  hands  in  tenfold  agony  the  gallant  and  intrepid 
Andaluz  stepped  forward  to  the  lady  near  the  iron 
gates,  and  bowing  with  one  hand  upon  his  heart,  said 
to  her  something  that  caused  her  most  suddenly  to 
blush,  and  she  and  her  maid  looked  outward  towards 
the  chapel.  Whilst  they  did  this  Jose  picked  up  the 
wine  glass  from  the  stone  seat  and  motioned  with  his 
head  towards  El  Chopo. 

"  Fair  lady,"  said  El  Chopo,  coming  forward,  bow- 
ing very  low  and  speaking  so  that  none  outside  the 
group  might  hear  him :  "I  beg  you  to  forgive  my 
friend's  impertinence,  which  I  indeed  forgive  with  all 
my  heart,  for  at  least  it  has  brought  me  the  enchant- 
ment of  your  passing  notice." 

"  There  now !  "  laughed  the  Andaluz.  "  Did  I  not 
tell  you,  Senora  ?  This  big  chap,  once  he  begins,  has 
a  fire  and  eloquence  that  might  melt  a  heart  of  stone, 
j  Caracoles !  I  would  not  have  these  good  sisters 
overhear  his  impudence  for  worlds !  " 

Jose  said  the  last  words  a  trifle  louder  and  looked 

187 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

towards  the  two  nuns,  who  tried  hard  to  keep  serious, 
but  happening  to  glance  at  one  another  quite  broke 
down.  Laughter,  indeed,  was  becoming  general,  and 
even  a  little  lovemaking  in  the  dark  recesses  of  the 
chapel.  The  more  decorous  cried  "  j  Chis,  Chis  !  "  but 
no  one  heeded  them. 

El  Chopo  drank  the  rest  of  the  wine  from  the  little 
glass,  and  the  young  lady,  recovering  her  self-posses- 
sion, said  to  him  with  some  amusement  — 

"  I  would  not  have  you  suppose  that  I  could  tolerate 
such  behaviour  from  a  stranger,  but  it  so  happens  that 
my  father  and  the  father  of  Don  Jos6  were  school- 
fellows. Thus  it  is  that  I  know  him,  and  know  him 
for  what  he  is  worth." 

Jos6  bowed  in  the  most  extravagant  manner  possible. 

"You  come  from  Santa  Fe,  Sefiora?"  said  El 
Chopo. 

"Yes.  It  is  the  first  time  that  I  have  been  out  of 
it.  And  unless  travelling  improves  in  the  next  few 
years,  it  will  be  the  last.  Twelve  weary  days  have 
we  been  upon  the  road,  choked  with  dust,  jolted  from 
one  rut  to  another,  and  passing  the  nights  in  constant 
fear  of  brigands  who  infest  the  mountains  again  near 
Santa  Fe." 

"  Ah !  you  mean  Carrasco.  Do  you  know,  Sefiora, 
that  I  think  I  have  seen  you  in  Santa  Fe." 

"  It  is  quite  possible." 

El  Chopo  sat  beside  her  and  lowered  his  voice  a  little. 

"  My  name,"  said  he,  "  is  Nieto.  The  Father  Rec- 
tor of  the  Jesuits  is  my  uncle." 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  the  lady,  turning  towards  him 
with  growing  interest.  "Then  we  are  both  of  us 
Jesuits  ?  My  father  is  Don  Ram6n  Gonzalez,  and  he 
brought  me  here  at  my  earnest  imploring  to  bid  my 
dear  friend  Dolores  a  last  farewell." 

188 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  Then  you  are  Dona  Encarnacion  Gonzalez  ?  " 

"  Carna  Gonzalez,  at  your  service,  Senor." 

Jose  at  this  moment  turned  back  towards  the  chapel, 
carrying  a  fresh  glass  of  wine  and  making  for  another 
familiar  face  that  he  had  just  perceived. 

The  two  young  people,  left  to  themselves  and  un- 
noticed by  the  chattering  crowd  around  them,  ex- 
changed a  long  glance,  and  Dofia  Carna,  suddenly 
lowering  her  lovely  eyes  from  the  passionate  gaze  of 
her  admirer,  went  on  talking. 

Carna :  "I  had  often  thought  that  I  should  like  to 
go  abroad  for  a  holiday,  but  it  seems  so  many,  many 
miles  from  here  to  Santa  Fe.  We  used  to  talk  of  Paris, 
and  this,  they  say,  is  only  halfway.  We  could  never 
get  so  far  as  Paris." 

El  Chopo :  "  Some  day,  perhaps,  you  may." 

Carna :  "  Oh,  no  !  I  am  quite  sure  I  never  shall !  " 

El  Chopo:  "Why  not?" 

Carna :  "  I  hope  that  my  father  will  not  forget  to 
come  for  me !  Susana,  you  must  look  out  for  my 
father  at  the  church  doors.  I  fear  that  he  does  not 
know  we  are  in  the  chapel,  and  to  lose  oneself  in  this 
strange  town  —  j  Dios  mi'o  !  " 

El  Chopo :  "  It  is  all  the  fashion  now  for  people  to 
go  to  Paris  for  a  month  or  two  when  they  get  married. 
And  no  doubt  you  are  engaged  ? " 

Carna :  "  I  ?  What  a  thing  to  talk  about !  Senor ! 
The  personal  interest  you  take  in  my  affairs  is  quite 
embarrassing." 

El  Chopo :  "  But  are  we  not  both  Jesuits  ?  And 
were  we  not  both  born  in  Santa  Fe  ? " 

Carna :  "  j  Ya !  I  had  forgotten.  That  accounts 
for  it.  What  puzzles  me  is  that  I  cannot  remember 
the  exact  occasion  when  I  first  saw  you.  But  I  have 
certainly  seen  you  before." 

189 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

El  Chopo  :  "  And  I  have  dreamed  of  —  " 

Carna  :  "  It  is  most  disgraceful !  " 

El  Chopo :  "  What  is  disgraceful,  Senora  ?  " 

Carna :  "  The  way  that  the  young  fellows  are  whis- 
pering and  chattering  with  the  girls  out  there  in  the 
chapel.  We  are  little  better  ourselves,  though,  of 
course,  we  are  talking  sensibly,  and,  moreover,  we  are 
seated  beyond  the  threshold.  Still,  I  think  that  we 
should  be  silent." 

El  CJiopo ;  "  No,  no !  That  were  surely  needless 
when  all  our  elders  are  talking  as  loudly  as  they  can. 
Tell  me,  why  should  you  be  so  certain  that  you  will 
never  go  to  Paris  ?  Have  you  some  reason  ?  " 

Carna  :  "  \  Seflor  !  That  which  I  have  not  confessed 
even  to  the  priest,  must  I  needs  confess  it  unto  you  ?" 

El  Chopo :  "  Would  that  I  had  as  little  to  confess  as 
you  have ! " 

Carna:  "You  seem  to  have  formed  too  good  an 
opinion  of  me  and  all  in  ten  minutes." 

El  Chopo:  "Senora,  without  any  discourtesy,  such 
a  thing  is  possible.  For  however  good  an  opinion 
you  might  deserve,  my  own  estimation  of  you  would  be 
better.  It  is  hard  for  me  to  tell  you  — " 

Carna :  "  Well,  then,  I  pray  you,  Sen  or,  tell  me 
absolutely  nothing !  " 

El  Chopo :  "  I  implore  you  to  hear  but  another 
word.  Since  my  poor  eyes  first  looked  upon  your 
face  —  " 

Carna :  "  \  Seftor  mfo  !  You  take  my  breath  away  ! 
Do  people  in  Salamanca  meet  in  the  morning,  sigh  to 
each  other  at  noon,  and  kiss  at  sunset  ? " 

El  Chopo :  "  And  what  term,  lady,  would  you  demand 
for  the  like  advancement  ?  " 

Carna:  "A  term  sufficient  to  prove  a  man's  sin- 
cerity." 

190 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

El  CJiopo :  "  Ah,  then,  Senora,  you  do  not  refuse  all 
hope  ? " 

Carna :  "  Hopes  are  like  laurels,  which  yield  no  fruit 
whatever,  but  are  always  green." 

At  this  moment  the  novice,  her  bridal  robes  all 
doffed,  and  clothed  as  a  nun,  came  forward  towards 
the  iron  grating  with  a  sister  on  either  hand.  The 
bishop  advanced  through  the  chapel  to  the  other  side 
of  the  grating  to  give  her  a  new  name.  Every  voice 
was  hushed,  and  all  eyes  were  turned  upon  this  im- 
pressive spectacle,  to  which  the  flaring  candles  gave  a 
strange  ghostliness,  in  keeping  with  its  purport,  their 
light  falling  upon  the  snow-white  robes  of  the  novice, 
as  white  as  the  robes  of  Dona  Ine"s  de  Ulloa. 

Outside  the  church  El  Chopo  and  Jose  waited  to  see 
Dona  Carna  go  homewards,  and  before  long  she  passed 
them,  leaning  upon  the  arm  of  her  father  and  followed 
by  her  maid.  Once  and  once  only  did  she  glance  at 
them,  her  eyes  meeting  those  of  El  Chopo,  then  quickly 
turning  away  from  him. 

"  My  friend,"  said  Jose,  as  El  Chopo  gazed  after  the 
graceful  figure  of  the  Andaluza,  too  enraptured  to  care 
for  ridicule,  "this  is  the  beginning  of  the  end." 

"  Aye!"  was  the  reply.  "  Yonder  goes  fate  in  a  black 
mantilla." 

That  same  night  El  Chopo  dreamed  a  dream. 

Once  more  he  was  a  fisher  lad  in  Santa  Fe,  and  a 
lovely  little  dark-haired  girl  with  a  golden  crown  bent 
over  him  and  kissed  him.  Even  as  he  returned  the 
kiss  the  child's  face  grew  into  a  woman's  face  and 
smiled  at  him  lovingly.  And  she  said  — 

"  I  am  Andalucfa !  " 

And  Andaluc/a  was  Carna  Gonzalez. 


191 


CHAPTER   XIII 

"  For  though  that  ever  vertuous  was  she, 
She  was  encresed  in  swiche  excellence 
Of  thewes  good,  yset  in  high  bountee, 
And  so  discrete,  and  faire  of  eloquence, 
So  benigne,  and  so  digne  of  reverence, 
And  coude  so  the  peples  herte  embrace, 
That  eche  hire  loveth  that  loketh  on  hire  face." 

The  Clerkes  Tale. 

DON  RAMON  GONZALEZ,  farmer,  traveller,  and 
agent  of  the  Jesuits,  had  been  in  poor  health  for 
some  time  past,  and  he  died  within  a  few  months  of  his 
return  from  Salamanca,  leaving  his  daughter  Encarna- 
ci6n  the  heiress  to  a  small  fortune,  and  some  property, 
among  which  was  the  house  with  its  orchard  at  the  back. 

This  house  was  situated  upon  the  east  side  of  Santa 
Fe.  A  short  side  road  leading  down  from  the  king's 
highway  towards  the  sea  had  a  couple  of  villas  on 
either  side  of  it,  behind  them  their  orchards  of  orange 
trees  and  fig  trees,  to  the  south  the  beach;  along  the 
beach  great  pyramids  of  glistening  salt,  beyond  these 
pyramids  a  flat  and  sandy  desert,  relieved  by  a  few 
dunes. 

Turning  down  from  the  high  road  towards  the  sea, 
the  house  of  Dona  Encarnaci6n  was  the  last  one  on 
the  left,  whilst  that  of  her  aunt,  Dona  Josefa  Gonzalez, 
was  upon  the  right.  In  front  of  each  villa  was  a  short 
stretch  of  garden,  but  a  footpath  which  passed  to  the 
seaward  of  Dofta  Encarnaci6n's  garden  allowed  one 
to  walk  close  alongside  the  whitewashed  walls  of  the 
house  itself. 

192 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

On  this  side  was  her  balcony,  filled  with  pots  of 
flowers  which  she  carefully  tended,  and  shaded  by  an 
awning.  Thrusting  its  head  round  the  corner  from 
the  orchard  was  a  large  bush  of  pacifico,  whose  great 
crimson  blossoms  looked  up  towards  the  balcony  and 
stood  out  in  fierce  relief  against  the  blazing  white- 
washed walls.  Inside  the  yard  was  an  ancient  vine, 
and  there  was  a  legend  that  this  vine  had  once  served 
for  the  lover's  ladder  in  an  elopement,  for  it  climbed 
halfway  up  the  house. 

The  wall  on  the  sea  side  was  high,  in  order  to  ward 
off  the  salt  breeze.  There  is  also  a  wind  called  Levante 
which  blows  from  the  east,  and  is  very  pleasant  to 
animals,  but  deadly  to  trees  and  plants  in  the  early 
spring.  It  withers  the  newly  budding  jasmine  as  if 
the  blast  of  a  furnace  had  passed  that  way,  and  often 
the  eucalyptus  trees  may  be  seen  to  fade  and  turn  their 
leaves  the  wrong  way  up  whilst  this  breeze  is  blowing. 

The  house  of  Dofta  Carna  (an  abbreviation  of  En- 
carnacion)  was  the  oldest  in  the  street,  and  old  folk 
in  Santa  Fe  could  remember  when  it  was  reckoned 
quite  a  solitary  farm  residence.  For  even  Santa  Fe 
expands  a  few  inches  in  every  generation,  and  what 
little  it  had  grown  was  in  the  direction  of  the  rising 
sun,  in  order  to  get  up  earlier.  Upon  entering,  one 
saw  a  large  patio,  with  a  floor  of  red  tiles,  and  this  patio 
covered  a  goodly  portion  of  the  ground  floor.  It  was 
half  a  garden,  and  all  through  the  summer  was  open 
to  the  sky. 

From  the  patio  a  flight  of  red  brick  steps,  edged  with 
treads  of  oak  and  guarded  by  a  handrail  of  plain 
wrought  iron,  led  up  to  a  gallery  which  ran  along  three 
sides  of  the  patio  and  gave  access  to  several  doors. 
Even  this  gallery  had  been  pressed  into  the  service  of 
Flora,  for  Dona  Carna  had  stationed  pots  of  a  certain 
o  193 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

creeper  along  the  rails,  and  this  creeper  came  swinging 
down  below  the  gallery,  and  little  clusters  that  looked 
like  spiders  would  tickle  your  face  as  you  walked 
beneath. 

From  the  gallery  the  first  door  to  the  left  opened 
into  the  bedroom  of  Dona  Felipa,  guide,  mentor,  and 
friend  of  the  young  mistress ;  the  second  door  corre- 
sponded to  the  chamber  of  Carna  herself. 

To  the  right  hand  as  one  entered  this  bedchamber 
was  a  snow-white  bed,  round  the  walls  highly  coloured 
pictures  of  the  saints,  a  sampler  of  the  marriage  of 
Santa  Ana  worked  in  coloured  wools  on  canvas  by 
Carna's  mother,  opposite  the  foot  of  the  bed  a  crucifix, 
a  little  more  to  the  left  a  balcony  so  thickly  covered 
with  flowers  and  creepers  that  one  could  hardly  per- 
ceive the  orchard  that  lay  beneath. 

The  white  and  blue  striped  awning  kept  the  sun  out, 
and  a  shrill  canary,  in  the  middle  of  the  opening, 
would  sometimes  hold  aloft  his  beak,  lift  every  feather 
on  his  vibrating  yellow  throat,  and  give  vent  to  such 
clamour  that  the  old  black  cat,  blinking  on  the  fork 
of  a  fig  tree  down  below,  would  think  to  himself  what 
a  vastly  different  song  it  would  be  if  only  he  could 
reach  him. 

At  the  far  end  of  the  gallery  was  a  door  which  led 
into  a  large  whitewashed  bedroom,  where  slept  the 
serving  maids,  and  this  was  immediately  above  the 
reception-room,  which  opened  directly  on  to  the  central 
patio,  as  did  the  kitchen. 

The  first  thing  that  caught  one's  ear  in  this  kitchen 
was  the  mighty  tick-tock  of  an  asthmatical  old  clock 
with  weights  which  almost  reached  the  ground,  but 
it  only  told  the  hours  and  not  the  minutes. 

This  being  so,  how  was  it  that  the  cook  could  always 
boil  eggs  to  such  a  nicety?  I  will  tell  you.  Two 

194 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"credos"1  went  to  a  lightly  boiled  egg,  three  if  you 
wanted  the  white  set,  and  four  "  credos  "  boiled  it  hard. 

Of  course  if  you  called  away  the  cook  in  the  middle 
of  a  "  credo  "  the  devil  took  the  egg  and  boiled  it  to  a 
flint,  and  served  you  right ! 

The  kitchen  had  a  country  fireplace  for  winter-time, 
on  which  they  burned  pressed  grapeskin  refuse,  olive- 
wood,  and  even  logs  of  oak;  but  this  was  seldom 
needed,  for  they  only  have  a  frost  in  Santa  Fe  once  in 
ten  years,  and  when  it  comes  it  kills  the  sugar  cane. 

For  ordinary  cooking  purposes  the  little  Moorish 
candelas,  three  in  a  row,  no  bigger  than  pudding-basins, 
and  sunk  into  a  red-tiled  bench,  were  all-sufficient. 

Dona  Carna,  with  a  mere  handful  of  charcoal  in  one 
of  these  tiny  grates,  would  cook  you  a  whole  dinner, 
but  then  her  hand  was  deft,  and  could  drive  the  air  into 
the  little  archways  underneath  the  embers  with  far  less 
effort  than  you  or  I  would  use. 

When  she  stood  in  front  of  one  of  these  candelas  with 
her  left  hand  on  her  hip  and  wielding  the  rush  fan  with 
her  other  hand  until  the  sparks  flew  up  the  great  dark 
chimney,  she  looked  prettier  perhaps  than  at  any  other 
time  throughout  the  day. 

In  the  warm  weather  her  throat  would  be  bare  and 
her  loose  red  blouse  half  open,  and  when  she  knew  that 
only  her  servants  were  near  she  would  break  into  a 
wild  love-song  that  went  thrilling  out  into  the  orchard 
past  the  iron  cross-barred  windows,  and  up  through  the 
patio  towards  the  pigeons  that  cooed  on  the  red-tiled  roof. 

If  the  cat  came  too  near  the  dinner  she  would  stamp 
her  foot  at  him  and  bat  him  over  the  head  with  a  move- 
ment of  her  fan,  and  if  you  or  I  had  stolen  in  upon  her 
at  such  a  moment,  as  likely  as  not  we  had  met  with  a 
similar  fate. 

aThe  Apostles'  Creed  is  in  daily  use  in  Andalucia  for  boiling  eggs. 
195 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

Carna,  at  her  father's  death,  was  situated  in  some- 
what the  same  position  as  a  ward  in  chancery ;  that  is 
to  say,  there  existed  a  mysterious  control  over  her 
affairs  which  proceeded  from  the  Jesuits.  This  control 
was  all  the  more  mysterious  for  not  being  formally  pro- 
claimed. Her  father's  will  had  left  the  money  locked 
up  in  such  a  manner  that  it  was  only  accessible  through 
two  persons  who  resided  in  Madrid  and  Cadiz,  and 
these  people,  moreover,  were  endowed  with  certain 
powers  and  privileges  which  even  allowed  them,  with 
the  signature  of  Dofta  Carna,  to  make  use  of  the  money 
themselves. 

Strange  to  say,  in  no  part  of  the  will  was  the  Com- 
pany of  Jesus  even  mentioned,  neither  had  Dona  Carna 
received  any  written  injunctions  which  bade  her  follow 
their  advice. 

But  her  father,  in  his  last  moments,  had  called  her 
to  his  side  and  had  said  certain  words  to  his  sobbing 
daughter  which  practically  bequeathed  the  filial  obedi- 
ence she  had  always  rendered  him  to  the  Company  of 
Jesus,  and  made  them  his  representatives. 

In  addition  to  these  claims  upon  the  obedience  of 
Dofla  Carna  the  Jesuits  were  able  to  reckon  upon  others 
equally  cogent. 

In  the  first  place,  upon  the  decease  of  her  father, 
who  was  a  widower,  they  overruled  the  pretensions  of 
her  aunt  to  become  her  protectress,  and  forthwith  ap- 
pointed one  Dofia  Felipa  as  her  chaperon. 

Dofla  Josefa,  the  aunt  of  Carna,  whose  house  stood 
nearly  opposite,  forthwith  retired  from  all  contact  with 
the  circle  of  which  her  niece  was  destined  to  become  the 
central  figure. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  that  Dofla  Josefa  was  a  parti- 
san of  the  Bishop  of  Santa  Fe,  whilst  her  niece  was  a 
protegee  of  the  Father  Rector  of  the  Jesuits.  These 

196 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

two  interests  were  irreconcilable.  The  Bishop  visited 
the  Father  Rector,  complimented  him  upon  his  orchard 
and  his  wine,  saw  the  cascade  turned  on,  smiled  very 
soapily  at  everything,  and  rode  back  to  Santa  Fe  to  tell 
lies  about  the  College. 

The  Father  Rector  visited  the  Bishop  in  his  palace, 
and  deferred  to  him  with  a  scrupulous  courtesy,  which 
the  Bishop  knew  full  well  was  a  cloak  for  the  Jesuit's 
contempt.  The  servant  of  the  Black  Pope  could  not  be 
hand-in-glove  with  the  White  Pope's  retinue. 

After  the  mourning  of  Dona  Carna  was  ended,  she 
gradually  established  a  tertulia,  or  weekly  "  evening  at 
home,"  at  which  her  chaperon,  Dona  Felipa,  nominally 
presided,  but  which,  in  reality,  looked  towards  the 
young  heiress  as  their  leading  spirit. 

Dona  Felipa  was  a  corpulent  dowager  of  forty-five, 
of  a  countenance  perfectly  smooth  and  placid,  and  with 
eyes  that  were  almost  somnolent.  Those  who  opined 
that  Dofta  Felipa  was  half-asleep,  however,  were  egre- 
giously  mistaken.  She  allowed  her  pupil  the  free  exer- 
cise of  her  will  in  almost  everything,  and  yet  knew  how 
to  enforce  her  decision  upon  the  very  few  occasions 
when  she  interfered. 

In  this  matter  of  indulgence  the  attitude  of  Padre 
Martinez,  who  was  Dofta  Carna's  confessor,  was  the 
same  as  that  of  her  chaperon.  He  abstained  from  all 
unnecessary  correction,  reserving  his  veto  for  those 
occasions  which  absolutely  demanded  it. 

It  will  be  seen,  therefore,  that  so  far  from  chafing 
under  perennial  restraint,  Dofta  Carna  was  far  freer 
than  those  less  fortunate  of  her  sex  who  confessed  in 
the  Cathedral  and  churches. 

It  must  not  be  thought,  however,  that  Dofta  Carna 
took  advantage  of  the  freedom  conceded  to  her  by  her 
confessor  and  her  chaperon. 

197 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Her  beauty  was  exceptional.  Indeed  it  was  this,  in 
the  first  place,  that  had  so  entranced  El  Chopo,  and 
brought  her  into  his  life  for  better  or  for  worse.  Her 
eyes  were  of  a  deep  violet,  so  deep  as  almost  to  seem 
black,  and  there  was  a  shade  of  sympathy  in  them 
when  they  looked  at  one  from  under  their  long  black 
lashes  that  drew  one's  heart  towards  her  even  when  she 
was  cold.  No  man,  and  certainly  no  Spaniard,  could 
look  into  those  eyes  without  forgetting  the  very  word 
he  came  to  say. 

The  nose  was  straight  and  clearly  sculptured,  the 
face  oval,  the  lips  generally  half  parted  in  a  smile  when 
she  was  listening,  though  always  naturally,  for  she 
dreaded  affectation,  being  too  beautiful  to  have  need  of 
it.  Small  and  perfect  teeth  showed  from  the  Cupid's 
bow  when  these  lips  were  parted,  and  each  cheek  had 
ever  so  slight  a  dimple. 

Her  head  was  gracefully  poised,  and  she  had  a  mass 
of  dark  silken  hair  that,  viewed  in  the  shade  or  by  arti- 
ficial light,  seemed  almost  black,  like  her  eyebrows  and 
lashes  ;  but  when  she  crossed  the  road  at  mid-day,  with- 
out even  holding  her  outspread  fan  to  shield  her  from 
King  Sol  —  so  thick  was  this  clustering  hair  —  one  saw 
that  her  tresses  were  bronze  auburn. 

There  are  old  men  in  Santa  Fe,  even  to  this  day,  who 
remember  how  supremely  beautiful  was  the  heiress  of 
Gonzalez.  They  will  tell  you  that  her  figure  and  her 
face  were  matchless,  even  in  Santa  Fe.  Ask  them  how 
she  walked,  and  they  will  answer,  "That  how  she  walked  ? 
Why,  Senor,  nothing !  She  walked  like  the  living  glory 
that  God  sent  to  scatter  grace  throughout  the  earth." 

Don  Joaqui'n  Perez,  the  rising  poet  of  Santa  Fe,  had 
one  morning  inserted  a  six-verse  poem  in  the  local  news 

sheet,  dedicated  to  Dofta  E G ,  of  which  the  first 

verse  might  be  translated  as  follows :  — 

198 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  Tho1  all  the  sky  were  paper, 

Tho'  ink  were  all  the  waves, 
Tho'  I  wrote  a  thousand  years, 
I  could  not  write  thy  praise." 

An  Englishman  who  read  this  effusion  said  "  that  the 
statement,  if  true,  betokened  either  very  great  beauty  in 
Dona  Carna  or  very  great  lack  of  conciseness  in  her 
minstrel."  But  what  else  would  you  expect  from  an 
Englishman  ? 

When  Carna  walked  abroad  of  an  evening,  accompa- 
nied by  Dona  Felipa,  it  was  no  uncommon  thing  for  some 
gallant  or  other  to  cast  either  his  hat  or  cloak  in  front  of 
her  (that  she  might  leave  the  print  of  her  little  foot  upon 
it)  and  cry,  "  Blessed  be  the  mother  that  bore  thee,"  for 
those  were  the  days  when  open  admiration,  so  long  as  it 
were  courteous,  was  never  counted  an  insult,  and  even 
had  Dona  Carna  been  escorted  by  a  husband  or  a  lover, 
her  companion  must  needs  have  laughed  and  taken  it  in 
good  part. 

On  all  such  occasions  Dona  Carna  would  bite  her  lip 
and  endeavour  not  to  smile,  and  would  most  carefully 
avoid  the  impressing  of  her  footprint  on  the  garment  by 
going  round  about  it  and  feigning  not  to  see  it.  There 
were  times,  however,  when,  prompted  by  the  spirit  of 
mischief  within  her,  she  would  so  guide  her  portly  chap- 
eron by  the  arm  as  to  force  her  to  place  her  foot  in  the 
middle  of  the  cap,  and  if  it  were  a  cloak,  she  would  con- 
trive that  Dona  Felipa  should  plant  both  feet  upon  it, 
left  and  right.  When  this  happened,  the  gallant  ad- 
mirer would  be  left  lowering  and  muttering  to  himself  at 
"yon  seven  arrobas  of  pork,"  and  would  gather  up  his 
plush-lined  capa  with  a  very  bad  grace  and  angrily  shake 
the  dust  out. 

Dona  Carna's  religion  was  the  offspring  of  a  keen 
emotion  and  sense  of  reverence.  Logic  had  no  part 

199 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

whatever  in  her  belief,  and  argument  was  powerless  to 
upset  it. 

Dofia  Carna  was  born  with  the  instinct  of  worship, 
and  this  instinct  was  nourished  and  rendered  all-power- 
ful by  the  impressive  mise-en-schte  of  the  Romish  Church. 

In  Latin  countries,  even  more  perhaps  than  here,  there 
is  a  certain  glamour  andimpressionalism  about  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church  that  can  evoke  a  fair  semblance  of  piety 
from  people  who,  by  nature,  have  no  religious  instinct 
whatever.  It  is  the  appeal  of  the  picturesque  to  the  ar- 
tistic mind.  Carna's  enthusiasm  was  twofold,  deriving 
its  strength  perhaps  equally  from  both  sources. 

It  is  difficult  to  draw  the  line  between  her  instinct  of 
worship  on  the  one  hand  and  her  sense  of  the  beautiful 
upon  the  other.  Possibly  in  some  cases  they  are  incapa- 
ble of  resolution,  and  it  is  doubtful  whether  her  attitude 
to  the  Deity  could  have  been  explained  on  either  basis 
alone,  whilst  taken  conjointly  and  mingled  with  an  ever 
present  emotion,  these  factors- gave  rise  to  a  highly  reli- 
gious temperament. 

It  will  therefore  be  seen  that  restraint  on  the  part  of 
her  father  confessor  was  hardly  necessary. 

As  an  instance  of  this  I  may  mention  that  whereas 
Padre  Martinez  would  not  have  exacted  a  single  pater- 
noster for  the  reading  of  a  French  novel,  Dofta  Carna 
eschewed  such  entertainment. 

The  doctor's  girls  and  the  girls  of  the  widow  Lopez, 
on  the  other  hand,  were  strictly  forbidden  such  litera- 
ture by  their  confessors,  and  it  formed  their  chief  temp- 
tation and  figured  more  often  than  anything  in  their 
confessions. 

There  was  yet  one  other  factor  in  Dofia  Carna's  piety 
which  is  difficult  of  description.  This  factor  was  a  con- 
sequence of  the  distinct  personality  which  is  given  to 
the  Saviour  in  the  Romish  Church,  of  the  constant 

200 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

dwelling  upon  His  nobleness,  wisdom,  and  love,  and  of 
the  portrayal  of  His  body  in  the  flesh. 

In  Santa  Fe  many  beautiful  images  of.  the  Saviour 
upon  the  cross  are  carved  out  of  alabaster,  ivory,  and 
other  white  materials,  some  of  them  enamelled  and 
coloured.  There  are  wax  effigies  which  represent  Him 
as  a  being  of  most  perfect  manly  beauty.  A  wonderful 
image  of  the  Saviour  surmounted  the  altar  in  the  Jesuits' 
chapel.  It  was  carved  from  some  hard  wood,  and  was 
enamelled  to  resemble  flesh. 

A  life-sized  image  of  our  Lord  was  also  placed  above 
the  altar  in  the  Cathedral  of  Santa  Fe.  For  the  virgin 
who  takes  the  veil,  and  is  taught  to  look  upon  the  Sav- 
iour as  her  betrothed,  these  beautiful  dolls  must  some- 
times lend  a  very  real  significance  to  the  ceremony. 
Even  in  the  case  of  Dofia  Carna  the  thorn-crowned 
image  in  the  Jesuits'  chapel,  surrounded  by  its  candles, 
cast  an  ethereal  glamour  over  her  devotions  which  lent 
her  a  sweet  content.  This  feeling  was  most  holy,  chaste, 
and  virginal,  and  yet  it  had  something  of  love.  Perhaps 
a  good  woman's  love  is  so  spiritual  as  to  need  no  refin- 
ing when  offered  to  the  Deity.  Perhaps  she  is  unable 
to  offer  aught  else  but  that  feminine  love  which  is  the 
same,  though  differently  manifested,  towards  the  hus- 
band and  the  child. 

To  say  that  Dona  Carna  was  religious,  however,  does 
not  distinguish  her  from  the  great  majority  of  women 
of  her  place  and  time. 

She  was  also  domesticated,  and  had  such  a  light  hand 
in  making  puff  pastry  that  her  masterpieces  even  found 
their  way  to  her  aunt's  tertulia,  and  were  set  before  the 
Bishop.  Old  Don  Ram6n  Gonzalez  used  to  swear  that 
no  olives  in  Andaluci'a  were  equal  to  those  that  his 
daughter  prepared. 

These  accomplishments  she  had  inherited  from  her 
201 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

mother,  who  also  had  taught  her  a  special  way  of  pick- 
ling tunny  fish,  which  Dona  Carna  had  so  improved 
upon  as  to  make  the  relish  celebrated  in  all  Santa  Fe. 
Visitors  who  came  before  mid-day  would  find  Dofla 
Carna  with  her  sleeves  tucked  up,  and  her  hands  all 
over  flour  and  spices,  her  hair  somewhat  awry,  and  her 
skirts  pinned  up  behind  so  as  to  leave  her  movements  free. 

Those  were  the  days  of  open- worked  stockings,  and 
lucky  was  the  man  who  caught  Dona  Carna  unawares. 
Not  only  did  he  look  upon  as  graceful  a  pair  of  ankles 
as  one  might  see  in  half  a  dozen  feast  days  from  below 
the  cathedral  steps  when  the  girls  came  out  from  mass, 
but  he  found  Dona  Carna  blushing  and  all  abashed, 
looking  fresh  as  a  carnation  in  the  dew,  and  he  had  set 
before  him  a  mouthful  of  pickled  tunny  and  a  copita 
of  old  Amontillado  that  had  lain  in  the  cellar  since 
Don  Ramon  was  born.  Then  she  would  run  away 
to  straighten  her  hair,  and  when  she  came  back,  you 
would  say  to  her,  "  Sefiora,  since  last  you  were  with 
me  four  very  excellent  things  have  disappeared."  To 
which  Dona  Carna,  who  is  not  supposed  to  know  what 
you  are  about,  makes  answer :  "  <  Verdad  ?  What  might 
they  be  ? " 

"  The  first,"  you  then  say,  "  is  a  glass  of  wine  of  most 
phenomenal  fragrance,  and  the  second  a  mouthful  of 
some  viand  which  baffles  description ;  but  as  for  the 
third  and  fourth,  unless  it  please  you  to  dance  a  pana- 
dero,  I  shall  have  no  further  opportunity  of  deciding 
which  of  the  two  excels  the  other,  or  whether  both  are 
best." 

This  you  say  looking  very  hard  at  her  toes,  which  she 
forthwith  draws  back  under  her  petticoats  and  calls  you 
" ;  Chinchoso  !  "  with  a  very  terrible  frown,  to  which  a 
pair  of  dimples  and  a  pair  of  laughing  eyes  suffice  to 
give  the  lie. 

202 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Dona  Carna  was  only  twenty  years  of  age.  Those 
who  envied  her  said  that  she  was  proud,  and  even  vain. 

But  Dona  Carna  was  not  proud.  She  visited  the 
Lopez  girls,  invited  them  to  fetes  champetres,  and  gen- 
erally consorted  with  them.  And  it  was  common  know- 
ledge in  Santa  Fe  that  the  Lopez  girls  were  poorer  than 
church  mice.  What  they  lacked,  however,  in  money, 
they  made  up  in  good  looks  and  good  humour,  which  is 
more  than  many  girls  can  say. 

Dofta  Carna's  pride  consisted  rather  of  a  rebellion 
against  overweening  confidence,  and  therefore  it  seems 
likely  that  this  accusation  proceeded,  for  the  most  part, 
from  the  men.  It  must  be  remembered,  however,  that 
Dofta  Carna  was  rich,  and  riches  bring  envy,  hatred, 
and  malice.  Of  the  many  families  in  those  parts  whose 
principal  daily  meal  consisted,  as  Spaniards  say,  "in  the 
chewing  of  their  finger-nails,"  there  were  few  that  would 
not  have  felt  pleased  to  see  some  disaster  overtake  the 
fair  young  heiress  of  Gonzalez.  .  This  fact  became  very 
patent  at  a  later  date. 

******** 

It  was  an  evening  in  the  middle  of  June,  and  Dofia 
Carna  was  seated  near  the  foot  of  the  staircase  in  the 
patio,  knitting  herself  a  pair  of  stockings  by  moonlight. 
The  kitten  was  playing  with  the  contents  of  her  work- 
basket,  and  making  sad  havoc  among  the  balls  of  wool 
and  silk  and  the  cards  of  thread. 

At  various  points  about  the  patio  were  scattered  three 
serving-maids  and  Dona  Felipa.  The  maids  were  nearer 
to  Dona  Carna,  and  formed  a  semicircle  round  her,  whilst 
Dona  Felipa  was  comfortably  ensconced  between  two 
green  tubs  of  orange  trees,  her  feet  upon  a  hassock,  and 
her  eyes  half  closed  in  thought.  The  Lives  of  the  Saints 
lay  under  the  orange  tree  by  her  left  elbow,  and  her 
glasses  were  in  the  other  tub  on  her  right.  Daylight 

203 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

had  failed  her,  and  the  clear  moon  overhead,  though  all- 
sufficient  for  fingers  that  need  no  guidance,  was  scarcely 
enough  to  read  by. 

The  servants  were  named  respectively  Conchita,  Su- 
sana,  and  Marfa. 

Conchita  was  busy  knitting,  like  her  mistress,  and  sat 
upon  a  hassock. 

Susana  was  bearing  pepper  seeds  in  a  heavy  brass 
mortar  with  a  brass  pestle,  and  sometimes  she  sneezed, 
for  the  odour  was  very  pungent,  and  for  this  reason  the 
others  kept  well  apart  from  her. 

Marfa,  like  Susana,  sat  upon  the  ground.  Marfa,  how- 
ever, nursed  her  knees  and  did  nothing,  for  her  earthen 
puchero  was  simmering  on  one  of  the  little  grates,  and 
now  and  then  she  would  jump  up  and  run  into  the 
kitchen  to  see  how  it  was  getting  on.  When  she  ran 
away,  the  kitten  bounded  after  her,  and  afterwards  came 
back  to  play  with  the  balls  of  wool  again,  its  supper  still 
deferred. 

Dona  Carna  was  telling  her  girls  a  tale,  and  this  is 
how  it  went. 

Dona  Carna  (slowly  and  thoughtfully) :  "  Well,  Se- 
fioras,  this  was  a  king  who  lived  in  a  far  country. 

"  He  was  a  very  mighty  king  and  very  rich,  and  he 
lived  in  a  palace  with  windows  made  of  jewels,  slept  on  a 
bed  that  was  covered  with  silk  and  stuffed  with  rose 
leaves,  and  ate  his  puchero  off  golden  plates,  and  drank 
out  of  a  goblet  set  with  rubies  and  diamonds.  And  yet 
he  was  very  unhappy." 

Conchita :  "  \  Jesus  !  " 

Dona  Carna :  "  Yes.  He  was  very  unhappy,  for  he 
was  without  a  wife." 

Susana :  "  The  remedy  seems  easy." 

Maria :  "  j  Digo — o  \     And  so  easy !  " 

Dona  Carna :  "  Not  so  easy  as  you  might  think  for  —  " 
204 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Maria  :  "  Was  he  young  and  handsome  ?  " 

Dona  Carna :  "  Oh  !  handsome  is  not  the  word.  And 
only  twenty -five." 

Susana  (to  Maria,  trying  to  be  scornful,  but  inclined 
to  sneeze) :  "  And  even  if  he  weren't,  you  ninny !  " 

Dona  Carna:  "Well,  let's  see,  who  was  telling  the 
tale  ? " 

Chorus :  "  You,  Seftora  !  " 

Dona  Carna :  "  The  remedy  was  not  so  easy,  for  he 
had  been  a  very  dutiful  son,  and  had  always  obeyed 
his  parents,  and  the  old  king,  his  father,  before  he  died, 
had  called  him  to  his  bedside  and  had  said  to  him,  '  My 
son,  when  thou  gettest  thyself  a  wife,  take  heed  that 
she  be  able  to  do  three  things.'  And  the  prince  asked 
the  king,  his  father,  '  What  may  these  three  things  be  ? ' 
And  the  king  replied,  '  First,  she  must  be  able  to  pass 
in  front  of  a  mirror  without  looking  at  her  reflection  ; 
second,  she  must  be  able  to  sit  at  the  window  and  sew  all 
day  without  ever  raising  her  eyes ;  third,  she  must  be 
able  to  listen  to  the  gossips  telling  lies  about  her  without 
betraying  that  she  has  even  heard  them.'  ' 

ConcJdta :  "  ;  Que"  barbaridad  !  No  wonder  he  couldn't 
find  a  wife." 

Susana :  "  I  could  stand  the  first,  but  what  about  the 
second  ? " 

Maria:  "And  the  third?  Could  flesh  and  blood 
abide  it  ? " 

Dona  Carna :  "  We  shall  see !  So  the  old  king  said, 
'Swear  to  obey  me  in  this  my  dying  wish,'  and  the 
prince  swore  to  obey  him. 

"  So  the  old  king  died,  and  the  young  prince  became 
king. 

"  And  when  the  days  of  mourning  were  over,  he  be- 
gan to  think  that  he  should  like  a  wife,  for  he  felt  very 
lonely. 

205 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  Now  the  old  king  that  was  dead  had  told  him  that 
these  three  proofs  must  be  made  secretly. 

"  So  the  king  bade  his  Prime  Minister  seek  him  out 
the  most  lovely  girls  in  all  the  kingdom,  and  on  a  cer- 
tain day  to  bring  them  to  his  palace. 

"  And  when  they  were  all  standing  in  a  row  —  " 

Susana  :  "How  many  of  them  ?  " 

DoHa  Carna  :  "  Oh,  hundreds  !  " 

Susana :  "  j  Dios  mfo  !  Enough  to  put  a  sergeant  of 
dragoons  to  the  blush ! " 

Dona  Carna  :  "  —  the  king  went  slowly  all  along  the 
line,  and  he  marked  a  black  cross  on  the  forehead  of 
those  he  didn't  like,  and  they  were  sent  away,  and  when 
he  came  to  the  end  only  three  were  left." 

Maria :     "  \  El  \io-o-o  \     He  took  some  pleasing !  " 

Dona  Carna :  "  The  first  had  black  hair  and  brown 
eyes,  the  second  had  golden  hair  and  blue  eyes,  and 
the  third  had  red  hair  and  green  eyes. 

"  So  the  king  took  the  first  one  apart,  and  her  cheeks 
grew  so  red,  you  could  have  toasted  beans  in  front  of 
them,  and  he  said  to  her,  'Walk  through  that  room  in 
front  of  you.  In  the  middle  there  is  a  mirror.  Do  not 
look  at  it,  or  I  may  not  marry  you.  And  afterwards 
there  are  two  more  tests.' 

"  So  the  maiden  entered  at  the  door,  but  hiding  just 
round  the  corner  was  Satan,  and  he  whispered  as  she 
passed, '  Daughter,  thy  hair  is  falling  down.'  And  when 
she  came  in  front  of  the  mirror  she  needs  must  give  a 
quick  glance  at  herself,  and  the  king  came  after  her 
sadly  and  bade  her  begone,  for  he  might  not  marry 
her. 

"  And  he  took  the  second  maiden  on  one  side,  and 
her  cheeks  grew  so  red  you  could  have  toasted  beans 
in  front  of  them,  and  the  king  thought  to  himself  that 
this  time  he  would  begin  with  a  different  test,  and  he 

206 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

said  to  her,  '  All  this  afternoon  you  must  sit  at  the 
middle  window  of  the  palace  sewing.  And  if  you  look 
up  from  your  sewing  even  once  I  may  not  marry  you. 
And  afterwards  there  are  two  more  tests.'  So  the 
maiden  sat  at  the  palace  window  and  sewed  for  hours 
and  hours  and  never  once  looked  up.  But  just  when 
the  sun  was  setting,  came  Satan  disguised  as  a  gallant 
cavalier  and  playing  a  guitar.  And  he  sang  such  a 
pleasing  ditty,  praising  her  loveliness,  that  the  maiden 
blushed  as  crimson  as  a  cherry.  Then  suddenly  he 
broke  off  in  the  middle  of  his  song  and  cried,  '  But 
yonder  goes  a  maiden  yet  more  lovely  than  the  one 
that  is  sitting  in  the  window.'  And  the  maiden  looked 
up  quickly  from  her  sewing  to  see  this  sight,  and  the 
king,  who  had  been  watching  her,  came  up  to  her  very 
sorrowfully,  and  touching  her  on  the  shoulder  bade  her 
begone,  for  he  might  not  marry  her. 

"  Then  the  king  called  the  third  maiden  to  him,  and 
her  cheeks  grew  so  red  you  could  have  toasted  beans 
in  front  of  them,  and  he  said,  '  Sit  you  beside  the  door, 
which  is  ajar,  and  outside  are  certain  of  your  neigh- 
bours that  know  your  business,  and  I  will  set  them  to 
talk  about  you  among  themselves.  You  must  not  speak, 
or  look  angry,  or  betray  annoyance,  for  if  you  do  I  may 
not  marry  you.  And  afterwards  there  are  two  more 
tests.'  So  the  maiden  sat  in  a  chair  beside  the  door, 
and  the  courtiers  had  brought  certain  of  the  neighbours, 
and  paid  them  to  say  the  worst  they  knew  about  her. 
And  they  not  only  said  many  things  they  knew,  but 
also  many  other  things  that  had  been  told  them,  and 
things  that  were  untrue ;  but  the  maiden  looked  meekly 
down  upon  the  floor  and  bore  it  all  in  silence.  But 
Satan,  having  disguised  himself  as  an  old  woman,  was 
there  amongst  the  neighbours,  and  presently  he  said, 
'  Enough  of  spiteful  talk,  and  let  the  maiden  be.  I  for 

207 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

my  part  know  no  harm  of  her,  and  indeed  I  believe  her 
very  honest.  She  has  only  one  failing,  and  that  she 
cannot  help.'  And  the  others  gathered  round  him  and 
wanted  to  know  what  this  defect  might  be,  and  the 
maiden  listened  so  eagerly  that  she  could  hear  her  own 
heart  beating.  Then  said  Satan,  '  Why,  have  you  not 
noticed  the  poor  thing,  how  all  day  long  she  has  kept 
her  feet  hidden  underneath  her  petticoats,  and  even 
now  she  has  taken  care  to  cover  them  with  her  skirts. 
That  is  because  they  are  so  large.' 

"  And  the  maiden  burst  into  tears,  and  springing  up 
from  where  she  sat,  cried  out,  '  It  is  a  lie ;  I  have  my 
mother's  boots  on.'  And  she  kicked  them  both  off  and 
said,  '  Let  the  king  see  for  himself  what  size  my  feet 
are.'  And  her  feet  were  small  and  pretty. 

"  But  the  king  came  towards  her  and  bade  her  sadly 
to  be  gone,  for  he  might  not  marry  her. 

"And  after  some  time  had  passed  the  king  bade 
them  bring  him  more  pretty  girls  to  choose  from.  Yet 
somehow  or  other  none  of  them  stood  the  tests.  There 
were  those  that  got  through  one  only  to  fail  upon  the 
second,  and  there  were  even  one  or  two  that  passed 
the  first  test  and  the  second,  yet  they  failed  upon  the 
third. 

"  And  marry  years  passed  away. 

"  Now  the  king  grew  very  sad,  for  he  had  no  wife ; 
and  his  courtiers  also  were  sorrowful,  for  there  was  no 
heir  to  the  throne ;  and  at  length  a  Cabinet  Council  was 
summoned  and  the  matter  was  debated. 

"  Nobody  could  make  a  suggestion  without  some  one 
else  pointing  out  a  flaw  in  it,  till  at  length  one  old  man, 
who  hitherto  had  not  spoken,  rose  to  his  feet  and  at 
once  proposed  the  remedy.  So  simple  was  the  idea  and 
yet  so  ingenious,  that  every  one  heard  him  with  pro- 
found astonishment.  His  advice  was  that  —  " 

208 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

At  this  precise  moment  all  eyes  were  turned  towards 
the  door,  for  a  captain  of  Civil  Guards,  young,  hand- 
some, booted,  and  spurred,  his  left  hand  on  his  sword- 
hilt  and  his  right  hand  on  the  latch,  stood  smiling  and 
bowing  before  the  astonished  assembly. 


209 


CHAPTER  XIV 

"  Morena  tiene  de  ser 
La  tierra  para  claveles ; 
Y  la  mujer  para  el  hombre, 
Morenita,  y  con  desdenes." 

Old  Spanish  Rhyme. 

"   A  ND  what,  pretty  cousin,  did  the  old  man  advise  ? " 
£\.   asked  the  Guardsman,  striding  across  the  patio 
towards  Carna  and  taking  her  hand  in  his. 

Dofla  Carna  at  first  had  risen  from  her  chair  in  great 
surprise,  tumbling  the  balls  of  wool  and  the  kitten  on 
to  the  tiles  together.  When,  however,  the  Guardsman 
addressed  her  as  "  cousin "  she  at  once  realized  that  it 
was  indeed  the  same  lad  who  had  left  Santa  Fe  half  a 
dozen  years  ago,  a  dapper  lieutenant  of  Infantry. 

"  When  did  you  come  ? "  asked  Dofta  Carna,  con- 
senting with  a  bad  grace  to  be  kissed.  "  And  why  did 
not  my  aunt  let  me  know  you  were  expected  this  even- 
ing?" 

"  I  came  this  very  day,  by  the  road  from  the  moun- 
tains. The  War  Office  sent  us  here  through  Carrasco's 
favourite  country,  to  make  him  fear  and  tremble.  As 
for  being  expected — why,  I  much  prefer  to  see  sur- 
prise in  such  eyes  as  thine,  j  Jesus  !  What  eyes  !  What 
a  pearl  of  a  little  cousin  !  " 

"You  have  already  dined,  Luis ?  " 

"  Yes,  cousin,  dined,  and  left  my  mother  in  doubt  as 
to  whether  she  was  dreaming.  And  do  you  see  what  is 
the  very  first  thing  that  I  seek?  " 

210 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Carna  looked  towards  Dona  Felipa  and  said  — 

"  Luis,  you  do  not  know  Dona  Felipa  Serna.  This 
is  my  cousin,  just  come  from  Madrid  and  lately  returned 
from  Filipinas." 

The  young  officer  bowed  to  the  elder  lady,  who  re- 
turned the  bow  with  dignity  and  asked  how  went  the 
war  in  Filipinas. 

"  Slowly,  Senora,  slowly  !  A  bloodthirsty  cunning 
lot  of  devils  in  a  great  forest  full  of  weeds.  It  is  like 
chasing  jaguars  through  a  swamp.  But  we  are  paying 
them  in  their  own  coin.  The  greatest  curse  of  the  coun- 
try is  the  monks  and  Jesuits !  " 

"You  forget,  cousin,"  said  Carna,  with  a  nervous 
smile,  and  looking  towards  Dofia  Felipa,  "  that  we  are 
Jesuits  here." 

"  j  Caracoles  !  So  you  are  !  I  seem  to  have  a  mar- 
vellous facility  for  putting  my  foot  in  it." 

Dofia  Felipa  looked  all  honey. 

"  Poor  Filipinos  !  "  said  she,  "  and  we  are  hunting 
them  down  like  wild  beasts.  But  Filipinos  were  not  the 
only  things  you  hunted." 

"  Not  the  only  things,  Sefiora  ?  " 

The  old  woman  smiled  at  him  very  meaningly.  He 
looked  away  from  her  and  betrayed  a  slight  awkward- 
ness. He  had  a  poor  conscience.  More  than  one  ac- 
cusing woman's  face  looked  at  him  from  far-away  Manila, 
and  the  memory  of  many  a  reckless  escapade  came  back 
to  him.  When  people  know  a  few  of  our  sins,  we  fear 
that  they  know  them  all. 

"  Not  the  only  things,  Don  Luis.  But  I  must  not 
take  liberties,  for  you  are  a  hero ;  is  it  not  so  ? " 

The  Guardsman  followed  her  eyes,  which  were  bent 
upon  a  cross  pinned  to  his  breast. 

"  j  Ea  !  I  have  made  one  or  two  Filipinos  scamper, 
Senora ! " 

211 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"And  killed  a  Spaniard,  single-handed." 

The  Guardsman  winced,  and  darted  a  fierce  defiant 
glance  at  her. 

"  Nay,  I  slew  him  in  fair  fight.  A  well-fought  duel, 
with  seconds  and  umpires,  all  complete." 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  blaming  you,"  said  the  old  woman, 
having  made  her  points ;  "  but  you  see  what  a  lot  we 
hear  in  this  quiet  Santa  Fe  of  what  you  gay  young  gen- 
tlemen are  doing  on  the  other  side  of  the  globe." 

"  Marvellous,  Sefiora,  marvellous !  "  said  the  Guards- 
man, and  took  out  his  tobacco  case  to  make  himself  a 
cigarette. 

During  this  passage-of-arms  Carna  had  looked  a  little 
nervously  from  one  party  to  the  other.  The  tobacco 
smoke  seemed  to  bring  peace. 

"  And  Carrasco  ?  "  asked  Carna. 

"  Ha !  "  said  the  captain,  "  'tis  Carrasco  who  brings 
us  here.  Therefore,  Carrasco's  health  !  " 

Carna,  as  if  reminded  of  something,  beckoned  Maria 
towards  her,  and  talking  with  her  apart,  bade  her  pre- 
pare three  cups  of  chocolate  and  a  small  glass  of  brandy. 

Then,  turning  again  to  her  cousin,  she  bade  him  take 
off  his  cloak  and  make  himself  at  home. 

When  Don  Luis  threw  off  his  cloak  it  became  appar- 
ent that  under  one  arm  he  was  carrying  a  small  parcel, 
which  presently  he  tossed  upon  a  chair  without  remark 
and  went  on  talking.  Susana  brought  him  an  easy 
chair  out  of  the  reception-room,  and  he  sat  himself  down 
with  careless  grace,  throwing  one  leg  across  the  other, 
and  displaying  a  jewelled  ring  on  the  hand  which  he 
leant  his  face  against. 

With  the  other  hand  he  fondled  his  moustache,  and 
there  was  a  something  so  insolent  in  his  manner  that 
he  seemed  to  have  had  a  victorious  career  among 
women  who  offered  but  poor  resistance. 

212 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Presently  Susana  brought  one  of  the  little  tables  out 
of  the  reception-room  and  set  it  alongside  Don  Luis, 
and  Maria  brought  a  tray  with  three  steaming  cups  of 
chocolate  and  a  little  glass  of  brandy.  Dona  Carna 
brought  sponge  cakes  from  a  cupboard  in  the  parlour, 
and  all  three  persons  drew  near  to  the  table. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Don  Luis,  addressing  the  elder 
lady,  "  that  my  pretty  cousin  has  told  you  of  the  time 
when  we  were  sweethearts  ?  " 

"  She  has  often  spoken  of  you,"  replied  Dona  Felipa 
with  a  smile. 

"  What  a  little  bag  of  mischief  she  was  !  " 

Don  Luis  stroked  his  moustache  and  looked  across 
at  his  cousin  with  a  roguish  laugh. 

"  How  she  cried  the  day  I  left  Santa  Fe !  "  continued 
the  captain. 

"  Of  course  I  did,"  answered  Carna  in  as  matter-of- 
fact  a  voice  as  possible.  "  I  was  very  sorry  you  should 
go  to  the  wars." 

"  And  not  for  aught  else  ?  " 

"  We  were  both  of  us  children ;  I,  at  all  events,  was 
barely  fourteen  years  of  age." 

.     "  j  Caracoles !      Only    fourteen !      But    you   were  a 
woman  ! " 

"  I  was  in  short  petticoats." 

"  No  matter ;  you  had  a  way  of  making  love  that  — 
j  caramba !  it  warms  a  man's  heart  to  think  about" 

Here  the  Guardsman  burst  into  a  hearty  fit  of 
laughter,  and  sitting  upright  in  his  chair  tapped  the 
crimson  cheek  of  his  cousin  with  the  back  of  his 
hand. 

"  But  you  were  telling  us  about  Carrasco,  cousin," 
said  Carna. 

"  Ah !  To  be  sure !  So  at  last  they  have  made 
a  barracks  of  Civil  Guards  in  Santa  Fe,  not  before  it 

213 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

was  wanted,  and  here  am  I,  sent  down  with  a  company 
eighty  strong,  half  of  them  old  Guards,  half  of  them 
picked  veterans  from  Filipinas,  like  myself,  drafted 
into  the  Guards,  and  with  a  month's  instruction  in 
their  new  duties,  new  uniforms,  and  clean  faces.  God ! 
It's  a  pretty  uniform,  say  what  they  will !  " 

He  smacked  his  thigh  and  laughed,  surveying  his 
glittering  facings  of  scarlet  and  gold,  his  white  pipe- 
clayed breeches  and  black  cloth  gaiters  with  evident 
satisfaction. 

"  Well,"  he  resumed,  twirling  his  neat  moustache, 
"  our  friend  Carrasco  has  been  distinguishing  himself 
of  late,  j  Caracoles  !  I  believe  I  half  admire  the  beggar 
for  his  pluck  !  Who  else  would  ever  dare  to  ambush 
a  squad  of  Infantry  with  fixed  bayonets." 

"  Ambush  a  squad  of  Infantry  ! "  cried  Carna. 

"  Aye !  That  he  did  !  j  Nifias !  Good  evening  ! 
What  is  this  one's  name?" 

The  question  was  addressed  to  Conchita,  for  the 
three  maids  had  stolen  forward  and  were  listening  to 
the  news. 

"  Conchita,  your  servant,"  said  that  damsel,  making 
her  bow. 

"  And  the  one  behind  you  ?  " 

"  Maria." 

"  And  the  one  in  the  dark  ? " 

"  Susana." 

"Well,  Conchita,"  said  the  captain,  lolling  back 
until  the  chair  threatened  to  fall  over,  "  I  think  you  are 
the  best-looking  of  the  three,  unless  it  be  the  one  in  the 
dark,  or  the  other  one  behind  you." 

At  this  there  was  a  general  titter.  Carna  smiled,  and 
the  girls,  thus  encouraged,  drew  nearer  and  waited  to 
hear  the  news. 

The  captain  complacently  blew  a  whiff  of  smoke 
214 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

towards  the  moon,  let  his  chair  fall  upright  with  a 
jerk,  and  went  on  with  his  story. 

"Well,  my  Lord  Carrasco  gets  to  hear  that  Govern- 
ment bullion  has  landed  at  Cadiz,  and  that  the  orders 
are  'quick,  march,'  through  Jer6z  and  up  country,  by 
day  or  by  night,  with  eight  bayonets  in  front  and  eight 
behind.  He  carts  away  the  landlord  and  servants  of 
the  Posada  de  la  Cuesta  up  into  the  hills,  takes  their 
place  with  twenty  of  his  men,  and  when  the  convoy 
comes  up  late  at  night,  there  you  are !  The  landlord 
with  his  arms  akimbo,  the  hangers-on  rubbing  their 
eyes  and  grumbling,  a  couple  of  lads  fallen  asleep  on 
the  bench  in  front,  and  half  a  dozen  guests  singing 
Seguidillas  to  a  guitar.  '  Gentlemen,  you  are  kindly 
welcome,'  says  the  host,  and  so  they  were." 

The  captain  paused  to  look  round  him  and  slap  his 
leg  and  laugh. 

"  So  they  were,  to  be  sure !  In  walks  the  lieutenant 
first,  gets  to  the  end  of  the  long  dark  passage,  and  — 
i  zas ! " 

The  women  gave  a  stifled  scream. 

"  What !  killed  him  ? "  asked  Carna. 

"  No !  Carrasco  isn't  fond  of  blood.  Only  when 
there's  no  other  way,  mind  you.  Gagged  and  bound 
him,  with  a  blanket  over  his  head  !  Six  bandits  stand- 
ing flat  against  the  passage  on  each  side ! " 

..   .      TOCI'IC  I  " 

j  jesus ! 

" '  Come  along,  sir,'  says  the  landlord,  walking  on 
through  the  inn,  and  the  sergeant  follows  next,  think- 
ing he  was  speaking  to  the  lieutenant,  when  —  \  zas  ! 
Number  two !  " 

"  j  Qu6  barbaridad  !  " 

"  And  after  that,  number  three,  four,  five,  six,  until 
they  came  to  the  last  man.  And  all  done  so  neatly 
that  the  last  was  just  as  much  surprised  as  the  first. 

215 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  And  they  do  say  that  Carrasco  and  his  men  sat 
them  round  the  room  in  sacks,  all  bound  with  ropes, 
and  gave  them  soup  and  wine,  which  they  all  took,  and 
enjoyed  the  fun,  except  the  lieutenant  and  the  sergeant, 
who  were  wondering  whether  they'd  better  turn  brig- 
ands, or  go  back  to  Cadiz  and  be  shot. 

"  And  next  morning,  before  dawn,  off  went  Carrasco 
and  his  devils  on  mules,  carrying  the  arms  and  boots  of 
the  soldiers  and  two  hundredweight  of  gold  and  sil- 
ver, with  a  '  Good  morning  to  you,  Sefiores,  and  I  trust 
we  haven't  inconvenienced  you  ! ' ' 

Loud  exclamations  from  the  audience. 

"  Oh,  that's  nothing  !  He's  a  clever  fox,  is  Carrasco. 
Mind  you,  the  Civil  Guard  wouldn't  take  a  pleasure  in 
hunting  him  if  he  weren't,  eh  ?  Why,  they  say  he  has 
his  chapel  up  in  the  mountains,  in  a  cave  all  glittering 
with  stalactites,  and  a  priest,  and  a  lady-love  more  beau- 
tiful than  a  rose  on  a  May-day  morning,  j  Caracoles ! 
That  he  has  !  But  not  half  so  pretty  as  you,  cousin." 

Carna  gave  a  slight  start  of  vexation. 

"  Ha !  ha !  ha !  "  laughed  the  captain,  who  had  always 
found  coarse  compliments  acceptable  in  Manila.  "  Do 
you  remember,  cousin,  the  day  when  you  came  to  me 
with  a  peach  between  your  teeth  and  your  hands  behind 
your  back,  and  bade  me  see  who  could  bite  the  bigger 
half,  and  at  last  the  peach  fell  out  of  our  mouths  for 
laughing  ? " 

"  No !  "  said  Dofia  Carna,  hiding  as  much  of  her  face 
as  possible  behind  her  cup  of  chocolate. 

"  Nor  yet  the  day  when  you  fell  into  the  sea  off  a 
slippery  rock,  how  I  carried  you  home  to  my  mother 
with  a  sprained  ankle  ?  And  I  fetched  your  dry  clothes, 
and  tied  the  bandages  round  your  ankle?  Do  you 
remember  ? " 

"  I  cannot  remember,"  said  Dofia  Carna. 
216 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  ;  Caracoles  !  "  laughed  the  Guardsman,  "  you  have  a 
devilish  poor  memory !  But  I  will  tell  you  of  one  thing 
more  that  you  cannot  have  forgotten." 

Don  Luis  leant  over  the  arm  of  his  chair  nearest  to 
Dofta  Carna.  He  seemed  to  take  some  pleasure,  or  to 
have  some  purpose,  in  publishing  these  facts.  He 
looked  hard  into  Dona  Carna's  eyes,  and  she,  though 
blushing,  met  his  gaze  unflinchingly,  and  with  a  dis- 
pleasure behind  her  nervous  smile  which  no  one  might 
mistake. 

"  Tell  me  you  have  forgotten  what  was  our  love 
signal,  how  you  had  a  shawl  of  Manila,  yellow  on  one 
side  with  red  and  green  flowers,  and  red  on  the  other 
side  with  green  flowers  and  yellow.  Tell  me  you  have 
forgotten  that  the  nights  I  was  to  come  courting  you 
at  the  window  it  was  your  custom  to  hang  this  shawl  of 
Manila  over  your  balcony.  When  the  shawl  was  hung 
with  the  yellow  ground  outside,  I  was  to  come  to  your 
window  before  las  dnimas,  for  you  were  alone,  and  when 
it  was  hung  with  the  red  ground  outside,  I  was  to  come 
after  midnight,  when  your  parents  were  asleep,  and  to 
wait  in  silence  till  you  came  to  your  balcony.  And 
there  we  would  stand  making  love  for  hours  and  hours, 
whispering  along  the  spout.  Have  you  forgotten  ?  " 

"This,"  said  Dofla  Carna,  rising  hotly  from  her  chair, 
"  I  remember  least  of  all." 

When  Carna  made  this  reply  the  captain  laughed 
more  loudly  than  ever  and  turned  with  a  hand  on  each 
arm  of  his  chair,  to  watch  her  as  she  walked  across  the 
patio,  and  did  not  fail  to  notice  how  she  stamped  her 
little  foot. 

"  We  appear,"  said  Dofla  Felipa,  "  to  have  lighted 
upon  a  topic  which  is  not  quite  acceptable.  Tell  me, 
I  pray  you,  did  you  come  across  the  family  of  Alvarez 
in  Madrid  —  I  mean  the  Alvarez  of  Santa  Fe  ? " 

217 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  No,  Sefiora,  I  never  had  that  pleasure,"  replied  the 
captain  shortly,  and  rising  from  his  chair  went  after 
Carna  to  make  his  peace.  The  girls  walked  off  to  the 
kitchen. 

It  would  appear  that  the  Guardsman  had  made 
amends  for  his  presumption,  for  presently  Carna  re- 
turned to  the  table  and  sat  down.  Whether  he  apolo- 
gized, or  whether  Carna  bethought  her  that  it  was 
uncousinly  to  show  bad  tempers  to  the  traveller  just 
returned,  she  gave  no  sign  of  bearing  him  any  malice. 

"Well,  you  were  telling  me  about  the  diligence, 
cousin,"  said  Carna,  when  they  sat  down  again. 

"  Aye !  So  this  lady,  who  was  a  marquesa,  sat  down 
by  the  roadside  to  cry.  Up  comes  Carrasco,  sees  she 
is  mortal  pretty  and  rather  young.  '  Sefiora,'  says  he, 
'  have  any.  of  my  fellows  insulted  you  ? '  '  No,  Senor,' 
says  the  marquesa,  sobbing  very  hard  and  looking  up 
at  him,  '  but  you've  taken  my  court  dress,  and  I  shall 
destroy  myself.'  '  Pish !  That  is  easily  remedied,' 
says  Carrasco,  and  orders  them  to  restore  it,  to  set  her 
on  a  mule  with  her  belongings,  and  to  escort  her  nearly 
into  C6rdoba,  bidding  her  adios,  and  sweeping  off  his 
hat  with  '  an  expression  of  the  keenest  regret  that  the 
present  unhappy  condition  of  society  should  compel 
him  to  earn  his  living  in  a  manner  that  quarrelled  with 
his  better  instincts.'  Ha!  ha!  ha!  Faith,  that's  so 
good  a  joke,  cousin,  I  must  have  some  more  brandy 
to  it!" 

The  Guardsman  then  took  out  his  tobacco  case  and 
made  himself  another  cigarette,  whilst  Carna  poured 
out  the  brandy. 

"Well !  well !  "  said  he  in  a  somewhat  lower  tone,  and 
gazing  down  at  his  busy  fingers,  "  so  my  poor  uncle's 
gone !  Well,  one  cannot  live  for  ever !  And  so  now 
you  are  rich,  and  I  mustn't  look  at  you !  " 

218 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

He  glanced  at  her  half  thoughtfully,  but  with  a  bold 
lustre  in  his  eye.  Carna  made  a  slight  grimace,  as  who 
should  say,  "  Why  do  you  insist  upon  annoying  me  ? " 

After  puffing  for  a  few  minutes  in  silence  Don  Luis 
asked  them  to  bring  him  a  lamp,  and  picking  up  the 
parcel  that  he  had  brought  with  him,  commenced  to 
untie  the  string. 

Susana  came  with  an  oil  lamp  and  held  it  up,  sup- 
porting her  elbow  with  one  hand  and  looking  towards 
this  mystery  with  evident  curiosity. 

Presently  the  string  came  undone,  and  there  fell  out 
of  the  parcel  —  what? 

Why,  the  most  glorious  silk  shawl  of  Manila  that 
the  sun  ever  shone  upon,  worth  nine  or  ten  thousand 
reals,  and  shining  like  gold  in  the  lamplight,  so  that 
Susana  and  the  two  servants  in  the  kitchen  doorway 
called  out  "  Oh — h — h  !  "  and  even  Dofla  Felipa  uttered 
a  word  of  admiration.  The  side  of  the  shawl  they 
looked  upon  had  a  groundwork  of  richest  yellow, 
with  flowers  worked  by  hand  in  red  and  white  and 
green. 

"  Now,"  said  Don  Luis,  laughing  at  their  surprise, 
"hide  the  lamp." 

Susana  took  -the  lamp  away  and  looked  back  long- 
ingly at  the  shawl  from  over  her  shoulder. 

"  Look  !  "  said  Don  Luis. 

And  when  they  gazed  upon  the  shawl  in  the  moon- 
light the  warm  colour  had  all  gone  out  of  it,  but  there 
was  a  peculiar  sheen,  especially  when  viewed  at  an 
angle,  which  was  neither  silver,  nor  yellow,  nor  purple, 
yet  all  these  effects  were  visible,  according  to  the  folds 
one  looked  upon. 

"  Now,"  said  Don  Luis,  "  bring  back  the  lamp." 

And  when  Susana  came  willingly  back  he  almost 
blew  the  light  out  with  a  sudden  flourish  of  the  shawl, 

219 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

which  he  turned  in  mid-air  as  a  bull-fighter  turns  his 
red  cloak,  and  behold !  there  was  displayed  a  ground- 
work so  vividly  crimson  that  the  paci'fico  blossoms 
would  have  looked  dull  beside  it,  and  every  one  cried 
"  Oh— -h— h  !  "  again. 

This  side  of  the  shawl  was  embroidered  with  flowers 
in  yellow  and  white  and  green. 

After  they  had  feasted  their  eyes  upon  it  sufficiently, 
said  Don  Luis — "So  much  for  the  exhibition.  Now, 
then,  we  come  to  putting  it  on." 

And  he  handed  the  shawl  to  Dofta  Carna,  who  knew 
very  well  for  whom  the  present  was  intended,  and, 
being  a  daughter  of  Eve,  was  greatly  dazzled  by  the 
finery,  yet  feigned  not  to  understand. 

So  first  of  all  Susana  tried  it  on,  and  cut  a  fine  figure 
in  it,  with  her  arms  akimbo  and  her  foot  put  firmly 
forward ;  then  Maria  took  it  from  her,  and  gave  her 
back  the  lamp. 

But  Maria,  in  her  eagerness,  fumbled  with  it,  and  the 
shawl  caught  on  a  button,  and  even  when  she  had 
shaken  it  into  position  it  looked  hardly  right,  so  that 
Conchita  fell  to  laughing. 

Then  Dofia  Carna,  with  her  eyes  aglow,  lifted  the 
shawl  from  Marfa's  shoulders,  and,  'stepping  aside, 
swung  it  round  her  figure,  shook  it  this  way  and  that, 
pinned  it  across  her  breast,  and  in  a  trice  the  willing  silk 
had  fallen  into  a  shape  of  sweet  repose,  every  fold  a 
poem  and  every  flower  a  song. 

Dofta  Carna  stood  proudly  before  them  all  with  her 
head  thrown  back  and  her  lovely  neck  caressed  by  the 
blood-red  fringe,  her  hands  upon  her  hips,  and  her  body 
slightly  swaying  from  side  to  side. 

Then  everybody  cried  "  j  O16 !  j  ol£ !  "  and  clapped 
their  hands,  and  the  Guardsman,  who  at  first  had  looked 
on  silently  and  fascinated,  strode  across  the  patio,  and 

220 


THE   PAGAN    AT   THE   SHRINE 

coming  close  to  Carna,  with  a  face  that  was  very  serious 
and  eyes  that  looked  fierce,  whispered  to  her  — 

"  Blessed  be  the  mother  that  bore  thee !  Pearl  of 
pearls,  and  rose  of  roses,  the  day  thou  tell'st  me  our 
love  hath  ended,  all  men  shall  go  in  black,  and  the  sun 
shall  lie  abed,  the  streets  shall  be  covered  with  a  pall, 
and  San  Pedro  shall  lose  the  key  to  the  gates  of  heaven  !  " 

When  Dona  Carna  felt  the  hot  breath  of  the  Guards- 
man upon  her  cheek,  she  cast  off  the  shawl  and  threw 
it  on  to  a  chair.  Even  before  he  spoke  the  reaction  of 
her  impulse  had  set  in,  and  the  colour  mounting  in  her 
cheek  told  that  she  was  ashamed  of  this  sudden  vanity, 
half  play  and  half  bravado  though  it  was. 

But  a  good  housewife  never  lacks  distractions  where- 
with to  cloak  her  feelings,  and  Carna  hurried  away  with 
Conchita  to  the  kitchen,  followed  by  the  kitten,  which, 
having  patiently  sat  out  the  chocolate,  saw  visions  of  hot 
supper.  For  Maria  was  fanning  the  charcoal  into  a  red 
glow,  which  was  reflected  from  the  earthen  pipkin  on  to 
her  face  and  arms,  and  a  steam  of  something  bubbling 
came  floating  into  the  patio,  wrapped  itself  round  the 
nostrils  of  Don  Luis,  and  said  very  plainly,  "  Be  off,  for 
the  girls  want  supper." 

When  Don  Luis  departed,  Carna  thanked  him  for  his 
present,  and  let  him  kiss  her  cheek,  but  he  caught  her 
little  hand  and  said  to  her  — 

"  Do  you  understand,  pretty  cousin,  why  I  have 
brought  you  a  shawl  of  Manila  ?  Why,  forsooth,  in 
order  that  you  might  hang  it  over  your  balcony  as  you 
used  to  years  ago." 

When    she    heard    this    she    cried    to   him    shortly 
"  j  Adios ! "  and  pulling  away  her  hand,  ran  back  into 
the  patio,  where  Conchita,  Susana,  and  Maria  were  pass- 
ing the  shawl  through  their  fingers  with  many  exclama- 
tions, and  Dona  Felipa  was  looking  on  amused. 

221 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  To  possess  this  shawl,"  said  Susana,  "  what  would 
not  a  body  do  ? " 

"jAy  hija!"  sighed  Marfa,  sinking  on  the  floor 
beside  the  chair,  "  to  be  mistress  of  that  shawl  is  worth 
twenty  thousand  journeys  to  the  top  of  Calvary  with 
pebbles  in  thy  shoes." 

"  I  had  sooner  be  married  to  it  than  to  the  hand- 
somest man  in  all  Santa  Fe,"  said  Conchita. 

"  j  Ea !  And  if  one  might  marry  the  man  and  the 
shawl  at  the  same  time  ? " 

And  they  all  laughed  and  glanced  at  Dofla  Carna. 

"  This  shawl,"  said  Dofta  Carna  with  a  smile,  picking 
up  the  garment  and  taking  it  towards  the  lamp,  "  is  the 
symbol  of  vanity.  It  is  the  gin  whereby  men  catch 
such  silly  birds  as  you.  'To  marry  the  man  and  the 
shawl  at  the  same  time '  must  mean  that  one  marries 
the  man  to  get  the  shawl,  j  Ay !  There  isn't  one  of 
you  but  what  would  wed  a  man  to-morrow  for  such  a 
dowry,  you  geese,  and  all  the  wise  saws  in  Santa  Fe 
could  not  prevent  it,  not  even  that  one  about  weddings." 

Chorus:  "Which  one,  Sefiora  ?  " 

Carna  (laughing) :  "  '  Mother,  what  kind  of  thing  is 
this  marrying  ? ' ' 

Chortts :  " '  Daughter,  'tis  to  spin,  to  bear  children, 
and  to  cry  your  eyes  out. ' ' 

Carna :  "  j  Ea !  I  see  you  know  it.  But  it  seems  to 
me  that  proverbs  are  like  friends,  and  familiarity  breeds 
contempt.  Well,  get  to  your  supper  and  chase  away 
such  vanities  with  a  wooden  spoon.  Much  have  you 
profited  by  the  tale  I  told  you  only  an  hour  ago.  Not  one 
of  you  could  pass  a  mirror  without  turning  her  head." 

Conchita :  "  And  you,  Sefiora,  who  have  more 
reason  ? " 

Carna :  "  Be  off  with  you  !  '  One  eye  on  the  frying- 
pan,  the  other  on  the  cat.'  j  Anda !  " 

222 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

But  Dona  Carna  was  not  very  angry. 

Whilst  the  girls  were  finishing  their  supper,  the  door 
of  the  patio  was  opened  and  there  entered  the  same  Tio 
Patas  whom  we  have  already  met  in  the  barber's  shop, 
his  clothes  a  trifle  less  pretentious,  his  stooping  shoulders 
with  the  weight  of  several  more  years  upon  them,  his 
eyes  as  restless  and  as  ferret-like  as  ever. 

On  the  death  of  Don  Ramon  Gonzalez  the  Jesuits 
recommended  him  to  Dona  Carna  to  guard  the  house. 
He  slept  in  an  outhouse,  of  which  there  were  several, 
attended  to  the  poultry  and  the  horses,  pruned  the  trees 
in  the  orchard,  and  looked  after  the  garden. 

In  the  days  of  Don  Ramon  labour  was  always  avail- 
able from  the  sugar  factory  of  La  Aurora,  but  Dona 
Carna  had  no  active  interest  in  the  works  since  her 
father  died. 

Sometimes,  when  heavy  goods  had  to  be  purchased, 
Tio  Patas  did  the  marketing,  either  accompanied  by 
Maria  or  alone.  On  this  particular  evening  he  had 
come  back  heavily  laden.  From  his  left  arm  hung  a 
basket  full  of  groceries  and  oddments,  on  his  back  was 
half  a  flitch  of  pork  all  ready  for  curing,  and  to  balance 
this  flitch,  a  bag  of  salt  kept  company  with  a  bag  of 
flour,  the  two  of  them  colliding  when  he  walked.  He 
closed  the  door,  and,  coming  towards  Dona  Carna,  took 
off  his  high-crowned  hat  and  wiped  his  forehead. 

"This,  indeed,  is  the  way  to  learn  to  sweat,"  said  he. 

"  Have  you  got  the  cinnamon  ? "  asked  Dona  Carna, 
poking  her  forefinger  into  the  flitch  and  closely  peering 
at  it. 

"  Yes,  Seftora  !  " 

"And  the  boots  —  are  they  mended?"  asked  Dofia 
Felipa. 

"  Also ! " 

"  And  how  much  did  the  cobbler  charge  ? " 
223 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  That  you  shall  see." 

Wherewith  he  produced  from  one  pocket  a  strip  of 
brown  paper  in  which  were  many  holes  pricked  with  a 
wooden  toothpick.  After  holding  this  up  to  the  light, 
in  which  position  it  looked  like  the  constellation  of 
Cancer  set  in  a  chocolate  sky,  he  announced  that  the 
soleing  and  heeling  had  cost  twenty-five  pesetas. 

"  j  Ah  Dios  mi'o !  "  cried  Dona  Felipa,  holding  up  her 
hands. 

"  Calm  yourself,  Senora ;  I  must  be  looking  at  the 
flour." 

"  The  flour  !  "  said  Dona  Carna.  "  Twenty-five  pesetas 
of  flour  !  Man,  you  are  beside  yourself !  It  would  need 
an  ass  to  carry  so  much  flour." 

"  Then,  Senora,  clearly  it  cannot  be  the  flour,  j  Aja ! 
I  have  it!  These  holes  are  only  farthings.  They  are 
the  salt." 

"  j  H  ombre !  A  fine  account  we  are  going  to  cast  if 
this  is  the  beginning." 

"  Nay,  then,  I  have  it  at  last.  I  was  near  the  truth 
in  the  beginning ;  one  barrel  hit  the  mark  and  the  other 
went  afield.  They  are  pesetas,  Seflora,  and  it  is  the 
pork." 

"  How  many  pounds  are  there  ? " 

"  Twenty  butcher's  pounds,  and  the  scale  fell  over 
like  a  coach  with  the  wheel  come  off." 

Dofia  Carna  made  a  calculation,  frowned  pensively, 
and  went  over  it  once  again. 

"Why,  this,"  said  she,  "works  out  at  five  reals  a 
pound,  j  Hombre !  I  do  not  like  your  bargain  !  " 

"This  comes  of  letting  him  buy  the  things  alone," 
said  Dofla  Felipa. 

"  j  Dios  mi'o  !  And  a  meal  worm  in  the  flour !  "  cried 
Marfa,  who  had  come  from  the  kitchen  to  view  the 
purchases,  and  was  plunging  her  hand  into  the  flour  bag. 

224 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  Pish !  "  exclaimed  Tio  Patas  with  an  angry  grimace. 
"  They  are  finding  worms  enough  without  you  digging 
for  them." 

"  It  is  my  own  fault  for  not  choosing  the  things 
myself,"  said  Dona  Carna,  with  a  sigh  of  regret. 

When  Tio  Patas  heard  these  words  he  cast  down 
all  his  burdens,  and  turning  his  eyes  towards  heaven 
struck  himself  upon  the  bosom,  once,  twice,  and  thrice. 
This  signified  that  all  joy  had  gone  out  of  life,  and  the 
sooner  some  one  stuck  a  knife  into  him  the  better  for 
his  peace  of  mind. 

The  women  folk,  without  regarding  him,  went  through 
the  various  purchases,  tasted,  pinched,  and  smelt  the 
eatables,  tried  on  the  mended  shoes,  and  nibbled  at 
the  cinnamon. 

The  loudest  critic  was  the  cook,  who,  all  oblivious  of 
the  scathing  look  that  Tio  Patas  aimed  at  her  along 
his  heavy  nose,  complained  impartially  of  everything 
and  hoped  it  might  be  a  lesson  to  the  senora  "  to  use  a 
more  trusty  messenger  next  time." 

Meanwhile  Dona  Carna  sat  down  with  paper  and 
pencil,  whilst  Susan  a  fetched  the  scales,  and  having 
received  the  change  began  to  make  her  reckoning. 

Tio  Patas  sidled  towards  her,  and  bending  down  with 
the  lamplight  on  his  leering  face,  scratched  his  grizzled 
chin  and  said  in  an  undertone  — 

"  I  have  news  for  you.  Whom  think  you  that  I  saw 
this  evening  on  my  way  from  the  mill?  Why,  Don 
Luis  Gonzalez,  your  handsome  cousin,  j  Caramba ! 
What  a  gallant  gentleman,  and  how  anxiously  he 
asked  after  you.  There  was  a  look  in  his  eyes  when 
your  name  was  on  his  lips  that  —  a  thing  quite  indescrib- 
able. He  looks  like  a  prince  and  he  has  the  manners 
of  an  emperor.  He  shook  me  by  the  hand  right 
brotherly." 

Q  225 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

At  this  point  the  girls,  all  laughing,  began  to  carry 
the  half  flitch  of  bacon  towards  the  kitchen.  Dona 
Carna  rose  and  followed  them,  without  replying. 

Dofia  Felipa,  who  had  come  near  in  the  shadow  of  the 
orange  bush,  watched  them  disappear,  then  turned  her 
eyes  upon  Tio  Patas,  and  nobody  in  that  moment  would 
have  thought  that  those  eyes  were  sleepy. 

"  When  he  shook  your  hand,  friend,"  said  Dofia  Felipa 
angrily,  "  how  much  did  he  leave  in  it  ? " 

"  j  Seflora ! " 

"  Enough  of  hypocrisy  !     Who  sent  you  here  ? " 

The  old  woman's  brow  was  gathering  in  a  frown,  and 
her  aspect  was  almost  menacing. 

"  Who  sent  me  here  ?    The  Jesuit  Fathers  ! " 

"  And  when  Padre  Martinez  sent  you  hither,  did  he 
tell  you  to  arrange  a  match  for  Dofia  Carna  ? " 

"  Seftora,  you  mistake  my  — ' 

"  I  mistake  nothing.  I  take  you  to  be  a  thieving, 
ungrateful  old  hypocrite.  'You  keep  no  goats,  Don 
Ratero ;  where,  then,  do  you  get  your  kids  ? '  Man,  you 
had  better  go  hang  yourself  before  you  meddle  in  mat- 
ters beyond  your  ken.  A  word  from  me  to  Padre 
Martinez  and  —  hold  your  tongue !  Snivel  and  look 
sheepish,  it  is  your  forte ! " 

Dona  Carna  and  the  servants  came  back  into  the 
patio. 

"  And  now,"  said  Dofia  Felipa,  "  to  prayers,  for  las 
dnintas  have  sounded  an  hour  ago  and  more." 

Forthwith  the  man  and  the  five  women  all  knelt 
down  in  the  patio  in  the  moonlight  and  bowed  their 
heads  in  prayer. 

There  was  a  look  of  most  ethereal  purity  in  the  face 
of  Dofia  Carna  when  she  breathed  the  Saviour's  name, 
and  when  she  turned  her  closed  eyelids  towards  the 
moon  and  clasped  her  hands  in  front  of  her  no  physiog- 

226 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

nomist  could  have  read  in  that  countenance  one  letter 
that  spoke  not  of  fervour  and  of  holy  love. 

Each  then  wished  the  others  good  night,  the  maids 
saying  "  May  you  sleep  well !  "  to  the  two  ladies,  who 
replied  "  Thanks !  And  you  also !  " 

Susana  bolted  the  door  of  the  patio  on  Tio  Patas,  who 
sought  his  little  den  above  the  stable  and  lighted  a  rush- 
lamp. 

Going  to  the  worm-eaten  trap-door  he  closed  it  gently, 
bolted  it,  and  chuckled  — 

"  Lock  your  door,  to  keep  your  neighbour  honest ! 
Now  let  us  see,  let  us  see  —  " 

Rummaging  in  his  pockets  he  first  pulled  out  the 
piece  of  brown  paper  stabbed  with  holes,  rolled  it  con- 
temptuously into  a  little  ball,  and  flicked  it  out  of  the 
window  with  his  thumb,  thrusting  out  his  tongue  the 
while  and  winking  at  the  Great  Bear,  amid  which  con- 
stellation the  missile  seemed  to  have  lost  itself. 

He  then  drew  from  his  pockets  some  fifty  reals  in 
silver  and  copper,  and  placing  them  on  a  bench  began 
separating  them  into  two  piles  left  and  right. 

He  seemed  in  some-  doubt  as  to  whether  the  last  coin 
of  all  belonged  to  the  left-hand  pile  or  to  the  right,  and 
scratched  his  long  nose  with  it.  Eventually  he  placed 
it  on  the  left. 

"  j  Ea !  "  he  said  at  last,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand, 
addressing  an  imaginary  audience.  "  Come  and  look, 
Seftores  !  This  pile  of  thirty  on  the  right  was  given  me 
by  the  captain  :  this  pile  of  twenty-one  on  the  left  was 
given  me  by  the  butcher.  The  one  is  a  produce  of 
love,  the  other  of  pork." 

This  speech  seemed  to  please  him  very  much,  for  he 
several  times  clapped  his  hands  upon  his  knees  and 
chuckled  to  himself. 

"On  the  whole,"  said  he  at  length,  "with  all  due 
227 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

deference  to  the  Jesuits  in  general,  and  to  Dona  Lob- 
berchops  in  particular,  the  love  comes  out  better  than 
the  pork."  And  having  hidden  the  money  in  a  flower- 
pot underneath  a  board  he  crossed  himself  in  the  name 
of  Nuestra  Seftora  del  Carmen,  blew  out  the  lamp,  and 
threw  himself  upon  a  bundle  of  straw. 

In  less  than  ten  minutes  the  silent  moon  was  looking 
down  upon  a  sleeping  household.  In  the  patio  re- 
sounded the  measured  snore  of  Dofta  Felipa,  heard 
through  her  door  which  was  left  ajar;  from  the  stable 
loft  came  the  deeper  bass  of  Tio  Patas,  and  a  dreamy 
sleepy  murmuring  stole  upward  from  the  shore  where 
the  sea  was  playing  idly  with  the  pebbles  and  telling 
them  such  things  as  it  never  even  whispers  in  man's 
presence  in  the  daylight. 


228 


CHAPTER   XV 

"  I  am  too  forlorn, 

Too  shaken :  my  own  weakness  fools 
My  judgment,  and  my  spirit  whirls, 
Moved  from  beneath  with  doubt  and  fear." 

TENXYSON. 

A  GERMAN  Protestant  who  lived  in  the  South  of 
Spain  wrote  home  to  his  friends  in  1860  that  "In 
Malaga  and  Sevilla  no  one  had  been  arrested  hitherto, 
for  it  seemed  as  though  the  Government  were  afraid  to 
admit  how  deeply  rooted  was  the  movement  against  the 
Church  of  Rome.  The  imprisonment  of  Matamoros 
and  Alhama,  however,  had  frightened  many,  and  six 
persons  had  already  fled  to  Gibraltar." 

The  year  1859  had  been  one  of  active  persecution  of 
the  Protestants  by  the  Papists.  The  colporteurs  from 
Gibraltar  were  seized  and  punished,  and  one  tract  distrib- 
utor was  sent  to  prison  for  six  months,  whilst  Martin 
Escalante  was  thrown  into  gaol  for  selling  Bibles  at  fairs. 

Using  Gibraltar  as  a  base  and  refuge,  the  missionary 
campaign  at  one  time  threatened  to  involve  two  nations 
in  a  costly  war.  These  conditions  brought  about  a  tem- 
porary coalition  of  the  Black  Pope  with  the  White  Pope. 
However  half-hearted  the  Jesuits  may  be  in  their 
fidelity  to  the  Pope  of  Rome,  no  stauncher  warriors 
ever  rally  to  his  standard  in  the  hour  of  a  Protestant 
assault.  Their  battle  front,  more  than  any  other,  has 
rolled  back  the  tide  of  Lutheranism  all  over  Europe. 

It  is  said  that  in  their  open-air  meetings  and  their 
secret  services  alike,  the  Protestant  agitators  pre- 
229 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

f erred   to   make   the   Jesuits   the   chief    butt   of    their 
invective. 

When  it  is  remembered  that  many  of  these  preachers 
were  of  English,  Scotch,  or  German  extraction,  it  is  hardly 
to  be  wondered  at  that  their  pet  antipathy  was  the  Jesuit, 
for  he  had  held,  in  their  minds,  the  position  of  bogy-in-chief 
ever  since  he  was  used  to  frighten  them  in  their  cradles. 

It  is  not  perhaps  generally  known  how  well  organ- 
ized this  campaign  against  the  Jesuits  became.  Seeing 
that  they  had  barely  returned  from  twenty  years  of 
exile,  and  were  still  a  little  uneasy  in  their  shoes,  it  was 
a  matter  of  vital  importance  to  them  that  the  movement 
should  be  checked. 

This  they  prepared  to  do,  silently,  courteously,  and 
in  confidence.  In  Santa  Fe  the  anti-Jesuit  agitation 
was  more  dangerous  than  anywhere,  for  it  was  below 
the  surface.  A  little  probing  showed  the  company  that 
the  strings  were  pulled  by  some  one  having  a  know- 
ledge of  local  conditions.  They  therefore  suspected 
that  a  Spaniard  was  at  the  bottom  of  it. 

In  most  other  places  it  had  merely  been  a  matter  of 
dealing  with  some  clumsy  foreign  missionary  speaking 
broken  Spanish,  an  animal  that  fell  into  prison  with  a 
tremendous  splash,  it  is  true,  but  without  the  people's 
sympathy,  only  martyrized  and  canonized  abroad. 
Even  Alhama  and  Matamoros  had  acted  indiscreetly 
and  shunned  concealment. 

Santa  Fe  was  a  harder  nut  to  crack. 

Many  were  the  communications  that  passed  between 
Padre  Ignacio  and  the  Provincial  on  the  subject  of  this 
movement ;  many  were  the  conferences  between  Padre 
Ignacio  and  his  first  lieutenant  as  to  the  root  and  bot- 
tom of  the  danger. 

Padre  Ignacio  held  that  it  would  be  time  enough  to 
strike  when  the  turtle  stretched  out  its  head. 

230 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  It  has  cost  us  hard  toil  this  many  a  year,"  said  he, 
"  to  regain  the  people's  confidence.  Even  yet  we  are 
hated.  Are  we  then  able  to  invite  opprobrium,  to  prove 
ourselves  malicious  and  revengeful?  Shall  we  place 
ourselves  on  a  level  with  those  who  criticise  us  ?  Ought 
we  not  rather  to  show  the  world  that  the  Jesuit's  mag- 
nanimity can  allow  him  to  ignore  these  pin  pricks?" 

To  these  opinions  the  Catalan  priest  would  listen 
with  bowed  head  and  folded  arms.  Yet  his  own  views 
were  very  different  from  the  Rector's,  not  only  in  this 
respect  but  in  many  others. 

Padre  Martinez  in  most  things  was  an  ideal  Jesuit, 
as  Jesuits  went  in  those  days  of  steady  resistance  to  a 
relentless  foe,  yet  in  one  matter  he  was  deficient.  He 
had  failed  to  acquire  the  Jesuit's  power  of  submission 
to  a  superior  will,  in  action,  word,  and  thought.  He 
was  fashioned  by  nature  to  command,  not  to  obey.  He 
could  not  suppress  his  inward  criticism  of  the  Rector's 
policy  either  in  little  things  or  great.  There  were  but 
few  matters  that  Padre  Ignacio  handled  personally 
without  his  lieutenant's  thinking  "  Ah !  How  much 
better  had  he  acted  in  such-and-such  a  way  instead !  " 

When  Padre  Ignacio's  motives  were  too  subtle  for 
his  blunter  intelligence  he  sighed  at  what  appeared  to 
him  mere  weakness  or  indecision. 

Yet  he  should  have  known  more  than  all  others  that 
the  Rector's  courtly  manner  was  never  a  sign  of  waver- 
ing, that  the  blue  eyes  could  smile  and  yet  be  cold  to 
him  as  steel,  that  friendly  argument  of  a  vexed  question 
always  had  this  same  ending  —  that  the  Rector  would 
be  left  gently  victorious  without  having  uttered  a  single 
word  too  loudly,  whilst  he  himself  stood  self-defeated 
by  the  heat  of  his  own  blunt  argument,  for  he  always 
lost  sight  of  anything  but  the  one  main  issue  until  it 
was  too  late,  and  then  he  would  realize  that  the  Rector 

231 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

had  been  playing  with  him,  and  so  courteously  that  he 
never  even  seemed  to  mock,  yet  Padre  Martinez  was  sen- 
sitive enough  to  feel  that  the  unseen  sneer  was  still  more 
biting  than  the  sneer  displayed.  For  it  added  these 
poignant  lashes  to  its  whipstock,  —  mercy,  forbearance, 
and  "  poor  soul,  your  zeal  is  greater  than  your  wit." 

At  the  conclusion  of  these  "  conferences  "  the  Rector 
would  turn  with  a  sigh  to  his  book,  whilst  the  second 
in  command,  as  though  suddenly  made  aware  by  the 
sharp  contrast  of  this  silence  that  his  own  argument 
had  been  pushed  a  little  too  roughly,  would  cross  his 
arms  and  "bow  his  head  submissively,  in  apparent 
deference  to  Jesuit  discipline. 

Yet  he  stood  a  man  convinced  against  his  will,  and 
his  heart  always  revolted. 

It  is  necessary  in  most  cases,  when  a  man  grows  to 
hate  his  neighbour,  that  the  neighbour  shall  have  done 
him  hurt,  imaginary  or  otherwise.  Not  so  with  Padre 
Martinez.  In  the  slow  march  of  time  the  utter  want 
of  sympathy  between  these  two  men  had  opened  a 
wide  breach. 

This  question  of  the  anti-Jesuit  movement  in  Santa 
Fe  was,  par  excellence,  the  point  upon  which  the  twc 
fathers  most  seriously  disagreed.  Padre  Martinez  when 
asked  to  speak,  would  answer  — 

"We  cannot  be  more  hated  than  we  are.  We  owe 
our  position  here  to  the  powers  that  be,  and  to  our  own 
right  hands.  Our  enemies  are  not  made  of  the  stuff 
that  yields  to  love  —  they  are  built  of  such  parts  as 
cringe  to  a  man  when  they  fear  him.  They  sneer  at 
the  olive  branch,  but  they  kiss  the  hand  that  holds  the 
whip.  To  allow  our  foes  to  continue  organizing  and 
increasing  is  to  the  outsider  a  sign  of  weakness.  This 
weed  should  be  nipped  in  the  bud." 

Some  such  discussion  had  been  taking  place  on  the 
232 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

evening  that  brings  us  back  to  the  College,  an  evening 
not  long  after  the  arrival  of  Don  Luis  Gonzalez.  More 
than  two  years  had  elapsed  since  El  Chopo  went  away, 
and  shortly  before  the  feast  of  St.  John  the  Baptist  a 
noble  Andaluci'an  horse,  bred  in  the  pastures  of  Cartuja, 
but  jaded  with  much  travelling,  brought  him  to  Santa 
Fe  by  the  road  from  the  Guadalote. 

A  slight  lather  was  under  the  horse's  saddle  and 
some  foam  was  clinging  to  its  mouth ;  its  beautiful 
eyes  were  dull,  and  the  gay  Castilian  prance  for  a 
while  was  forgotten. 

The  traveller,  whose  brown  leggings  and  cloak  and 
hat  were  thickly  floured  with  dust,  led  his  horse  up 
the  hill  by  the  bridle,  pausing  once  or  twice  with  the 
reins  hanging  loosely  over  his  arm  to  look  at  the  pano- 
rama below,  at  the  lights  that  were  appearing  in  the 
fishermen's  huts  on  the  island,  and  the  copper-coloured 
clouds  that  were  hovering  in  the  west. 

The  horse  drooped  its  head  and  looked  patiently 
down  the  hillside  each  time  they  halted,  and  pricked 
up  its  ears  when  la  oration  came  rolling  across  the  plain 
from  the  Cathedral  of  Santa  Fe. 

"  I  think,"  said  El  Chopo,  smiling  to  himself,  "  that 
there  must  be  some  truth  in  the  old  legend  after  all. 
Scarcely  has  la  oration  died  away  when  down  comes  the 
wind  from  the  mountains  sure  enough." 

And  he  glanced  at  the  horse,  for  it  was  shivering. 

At  the  outer  gate  of  the  College  he  tied  up  his  horse, 
then  climbed  the  steps  and  strode  towards  the  door,  his 
spurs  jangling  and  his  heart  beating  fast  with  a  flood  of 
recollections.  As  he  neared  the  jasmine-covered  win- 
dows he  threw  off  his  broad-brimmed  hat  the  better  to 
be  recognized  in  the  dim  light,  and  felt  no  little  satis- 
faction to  find  himself  remembered,  for  the  great  door 
swung  open  before  he  reached  the  threshold. 

233 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

A  few  minutes'  waiting  in  the  vestibule  and  the  priest 
beckoned  to  him  from  the  head  of  the  staircase  which 
he  climbed  two  steps  at  a  time,  and,  seeking  the  well- 
known  doorway,  found  himself  in  the  presence  of  Padre 
Ignacio. 

Padre  Martinez  had  just  gone  out  with  a  pile  of  books 
in  his  arms  and  was  halfway  down  the  dark  corridor 
when  the  traveller  stood  at  the  doorway,  but  he  heard 
El  Chopo's  footstep  and  halted  and  turned  round  just 
in  time  to  see  him  enter. 

"  Ha !  "  said  the  priest  to  himself,  "  so  Sir  Mystery  is 
back  again ! " 

And  then  he  went  slowly  onward  towards  his  room, 
pondering  deeply  and  biting  his  lip. 

When  El  Chopo  opened  the  door  the  room  was  dark, 
the  balcony  thrown  open,  and  the  night  breeze  from 
the  mountains  was  gently  stirring  the  tree-tops  of  the 
orchard. 

For  a  moment  the  Father  Rector  paused,  his  bulk 
silhouetted  as  a  black  outline  against  the  sky ;  then  he 
came  suddenly  forward  and  took  El  Chopo  by  both 
hands  but  did  not  speak. 

The  last  couple  of  years  had  aged  him  more  than  a 
little,  and  this  sudden  emotion  was  all  too  much  for  him 
at  first. 

The  young  man  for  his  part  laughed  quietly  as  one 
laughs  when  an  anticipated  pleasure  comes  to  pass,  and 
thought  to  himself  that  his  uncle  was  perhaps  bewil- 
dered at  this  unannounced  return. 

When  Padre  Ignacio  recovered  himself  he  took  off 
the  young  man's  cloak  with  his  own  hands,  and,  pushing 
a  chair  towards  the  table,  rang  the  bell. 

His  summons  being  answered,  he  bade  them  bring 
food  and  wine,  all  of  the  best,  and  set  them  before 
El  Chopo. 

234 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  With  your  indulgence,  my  son,  I  will  light  no  lamp," 
said  he.  "  The  moon  will  look  in  at  us  anon,  and,  truth 
to  tell,  my  old  eyes  ache  to-night." 

"As  you  will,  uncle,"  replied  El  Chopo.  "  None  but 
a  Vandal  would  ask  for  an  artificial  light  in  such  a  place 
as  this.  In  the  French  town  whence  I  came,  one  can- 
not sit  at  meat  and  smell  the  orange  blossom  and  listen 
to  the  gushing  of  the  water  down  the  orchard.  Sweet 
smells,  sweet  sounds,  how  often  have  I  missed  them ; 
how  often  at  eventide  have  I  thought  of  you ;  how  many 
times  at  night  have  I  dreamed  of  this  plain  of  Santa  Fe 
and  its  air  of  eternal  peace,  its  sleepy  life  of  lotus  eat- 
ing, the  chimes  of  the  Cathedral  that  sound  across  the 
plain  at  oration  and  dnimas,  even  to  the  little  devils 
that  clap  their  wings  and  shiver  in  the  mountains  when 
they  hear  it !  " 

"  How  long  have  you  been  upon  the  way,  and  by 
which  road  did  you  come?" 

"  It  has  taken  me  ten  days  from  Madrid,  of  which  I 
spent  two  in  Cordoba.  Every  league  seemed  to  lend  a 
new  charm  to  the  landscape  as  I  came  towards  the 
South.  In  Madrid  I  heard  an  Andaluz  laying  down 
the  law  in  a  wine-shop  as  I  passed,  and  the  rhythm 
of  the  dear  old  accent  made  me  halt  to  listen.  Like 
a  fool  I  needs  must  stay  to  drink  the  health  of  his 
sweetheart.  I  was  not  there  more  than  ten  minutes 
and  he  swindled  me  out  of  two  dollars.  But  he  did 
it  with  such  an  excellent  grace  that  I  was  halfway 
down  the  Prado  before  I  realized  thr.t  he  had  cheated 
me." 

Father  and  son  laughed  heartily  at  this  incident. 

"So  Carrasco  did  not  catch  you?"  said  Padre 
Ignacio. 

"  I  gave  him  a  wide  berth.  What  is  one  man  alone 
against  so  many  ?  The  pistols  in  my  holsters  are  only 

235 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

good  for  two  men  at  most.  I  pray  you,  by  the  way, 
let  them  take  in  my  horse  awhile." 

The  Father  Rector  rang  his  bell  and  gave  the  neces- 
sary orders  to  a  lay  brother,  then,  pausing  with  his 
hand  upon  the  door,  asked  of  El  Chopo  where  he  slept 
that  night. 

"  In  Santa  Fe,  I  suppose,"  replied  the  young  man. 
"No  doubt  the  Fonda  de  Francia  will  serve  me  well 
enough.  Tell  them  I  am  a  Frenchman." 

"  Let  Andre's  call  at  the  Fonda  de  Francia  on  his 
way  home,"  said  Padre  Ignacio,  "  and  bespeak  a  bed 
for  this  gentleman,  and  stable  room  for  his  horse." 

"Though  a  far  greater  than  I  once  lodged  at  the 
Fonda  del  Trini  of  Cinco  Caminos,"  said  El  Chopo, 
laughing  and  looking  towards  Padre  Ignacio,  who  was 
reaching  down  wine  and  glasses  from  the  cupboard. 

"But  he  was  a  sour  old  friar,"  replied  the  priest, 
"  and  you  are  a  dashing  young  cavalier." 

"  Enough  of  cavaliers  !  "  laughed  the  other :  "  here's 
to  your  health,  my  dear  uncle.  Nay !  but  afterwards 
you  shall  drink  to  mine." 

The  young  man  rose  to  his  feet,  bowed  to  the  priest 
and  raised  a  glassful  of  golden  Amontillado  to  his  lips. 

"  i  Hola  !  "  cried  the  Jesuit  merrily.  "  What  marvel 
of  French  courtesy  is  this  young  man  ?  j  Nada  !  You 
have  done  it  so  prettily  that  I  needs  must  pledge  you 
back,  though  it  make  my  head  ache  in  the  morning, 
and,  what's  more,  I  must  see  your  face,  for  the  tongue 
smacks  of  France,  and  who  knows  but  what  the  face 
may  be  altered  as  well  ? " 

Padre  Ignacio  lighted  the  lamp,  and  folding  his  arms 
gazed  with  serene  features  at  the  young  man  who  stood 
before  him.  The  more  he  gazed,  the  more  evident 
became  the  gloating  in  his  eyes,  and  his  lips  were  all 
but  trembling  when  he  saved  himself  by  moving 

236 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

towards  the  table,  where  he  filled  himself  a  glass  of 
wine,  and  turning  to  El  Chopo,  with  one  hand  upon 
his  shoulder,  said,  as  he  lifted  the  glass,  "  Your  health, 
my  dear  nephew !  Long  may  you  live,  and  may 
God  bless  you  for  ever  and  keep  you  in  all  His 
ways." 

The  latter  half  of  this  brief  speech  seemed  to  arouse 
some  memory  in  the  young  man's  mind,  for  his  face 
grew  clouded  and  he  passed  his  hand  over  his  forehead 
and  looked  away. 

When  the  lay  brother  brought  in  his  meal,  El  Chopo 
turned  to  the  ewer  and  basin  in  the  alcove  beside  the 
bed,  at  the  Jesuit's  invitation,  and  having  swilled  the 
dust  from  his  hands  and  face  and  roughly  brushed 
himself,  he  sat  down  at  the  table. 

"  My  baggage  should  already  be  in  Santa  Fe,"  said 
he,  "unless  Carrasco  has  detained  it.  They  say  you 
have  a  barrack  of  Civil  Guards  ? " 

"There  are  many  changes.  Don  Ram6n  Gonzalez 
is  dead." 

"  I  know  it.     God  rest  his  soul !  " 

"Of  course  you  have  heard  of  the  Protestant  cam- 
paign against  us  in  the  South  ?  " 

"  Against  the  Company  ?  I  have  heard  something 
of  it.  Yes.  It  had  started  before  I  left." 

"  It  has  grown  apace  as  ill  weeds  will." 

El  Chopo  ate  with  appetite.  The  Jesuit  stood  beside 
him,  anticipating  his  wants,  sometimes  pacing  between 
the  balcony  and  the  door  as  was  his  habit  when  excited, 
then  coming  back  to  gaze  down  at  the  young  man's 
shoulders,  to  hand  him  a  fresh  plate,  or  to  pour  him 
out  more  wine. 

"  You  must  not  think,"  said  the  guest,  "  that  because 
I  have  been  in  France  I  have  cast  my  Andaluz  skin. 
You  keep  on  pouring  me  out  more  wine !  Good  uncle 

237 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

you  will  make  me  drunk.     Now  let  me  show  you  that 
I  am  yet  a  Spaniard." 

And  rising  from  his  chair  he  pushed  the  wine  on  one 
side,  fetched  the  earthen  water  bottle  from  the  balcony, 
and  raising  it  above  his  upturned  face,  poured  a  long 
thin  stream  of  icy  water  down  his  throat  from  out  of  the 
nipple,  and  continued  thus  pouring  for  several  seconds. 

"  Stop !  "  cried  the  Jesuit  laughing,  "  you  are  full  of 
water  to  your  throat." 

"  It  is  a  Spanish  vice,"  said  El  Chopo,  lowering  the 
botijo  without  having  spilled  a  drop,  "this  gluttony  of 
cold  water,  that  far  countries  have  taught  me  to  be 
proud  of." 

"Yet  in  other  things  they  teach  us  to  be  ashamed." 

"  Ah ! "  said  the  young  man  moodily,  throwing  him- 
self into  his  chair,  "  they  have  taught  me  many  things 
I  would  unlearn.  One  thing,  however,  I  thank  them 
for.  Santa  Fe,  that  I  always  loved  so  well,  is  now  my 
paradise.  It  is  the  only  home  of  rest  and  true  con- 
tentment. I  come  back  with  eyes  that  are  blind  to 
its  imperfections,  for  they  can  only  look  upon  its 
charms.  Maybe  they  magnify  them,  the  result  is  just 
the  same. 

"  Give  me,  I  say,  a  cottage  in  the  vega  of  Santa  Fe, 
God's  sun  above  my  head,  the  orange  groves  to  shade 
me,  the  clicking  of  the  water-wheel  as  the  lazy  ox  goes 
round,  the  chirp  of  the  cigarron,  and  the  whisper  of 
the  Mediterranean.  Give  me  health,  give  me  my  daily 
bread,  a  snatch  on  the  guitar  at  eventide,  sweet  zephyrs 
as  I  lay  me  down  to  rest,  and  where's  the  man  that 
cannot  be  contented  ? 

"  /  Viva  Andalucia !  madre,  querida,  perla  de  las 
perlas  !  '  The  garden  that  God  chose  to  rest  Him  in 
upon  the  seventh  day,  when  He  had  made  the  earth,' 
as  the  legend  says. 

238 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"When  first  I  looked  down  upon  the  vega  on  my 
way  from  Cordoba  my  heart  leaped  within  me,  and  I 
resolved  that  I  would  never  say  good-bye  to  it  again. 
I  am  a  son  of  the  people  and  shall  always  so  remain. 
My  hunger  of  inquiry  is  over,  satiated  almost  before  I 
had  begun.  I  saw  in  front  of  me  two  paths  and  stood 
at  the  meeting  point. 

"  On  one  side  the  struggle  for  knowledge  and  as- 
cendancy. I  marked  the  faces  of  those  who  fared 
along  that  path.  In  the  distance  a  sun  of  success,  a 
paradise  of  wealth,  an  el  dorado,  a  joy  of  all  joys  for 
each  one  after  his  own  heart,  yet  few  attained  it,  and 
those  who  attained  it  scarce  seemed  the  happier.  At 
times  I  had  a  longing  to  push  forward  along  that  path, 
the  infectious  mania  of  the  progressionist  caught  hold 
of  me,  and  in  that  moment  I  was  stricken  with  one  of 
his  maladies.  The  other  path — " 

"  What  is  that  malady  ? "  asked  the  priest. 

The  young  man  rose  from  the  table,  pushed  aside  his 
chair,  and  going  towards  the  balcony  leant  upon  the 
breastwork.  He  stood  as  one  that  welcomes  the  even- 
ing breeze  upon  a  head  that  is  sore  perplexed,  but  he 
did  not  answer. 

Padre  Ignacio  repeated  his  question. 

"  The  malady  of  which  I  speak,"  replied  the  traveller, 
turning  a  steady  gaze  upon  the  priest,  "  is  an  affliction 
of  the  mind,  and  there  is  only  one  physician  can  cure 
me.  That  physician  is  yourself.  Forgive  me,  my  dear 
uncle,  if  by  a  mere  chance  word,  spoken  almost  in  solilo- 
quy, I  have  broached  a  subject  which  I  intended  to  re- 
serve for  some  more  fitting  occasion.  The  pleasure  of 
this  meeting,  the  joy  of  my  first  night  in  Santa  Fe,  must 
not  be  marred  by  such  discordant  music,  as  later  I  must 
fiddle  to  you  against  my  will.  Even  now  I  saw  your 
hand  moving  towards  the  spirit  lamp.  How  gladly  I 

239 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

would  accept  a  cup  of  your  famous  coffee,  such  coffee 
as  all  the  realm  of  France  cannot  produce." 

The  young  man  smiled  cheerfully  as  he  spoke  the  last 
words,  and  motioned  towards  the  silvered  copper  kettle 
which  stood  over  a  lamp  near  the  cupboard. 

"  I  will  make  your  coffee,"  said  the  priest  as  he  lighted 
the  lamp,  "but  my  own  must  remain  untasted  for  the 
present." 

"Why?" 

Padre  Ignacio's  back  was  turned.  He  stooped  down 
and  looked  underneath  the  kettle  to  adjust  the  flame. 
As  he  did  so  there  was  a  slight  tremble  in  his  hand. 

"  Because,"  said  he,  "  I  will  taste  neither  coffee  nor 
bread  nor  water  until  you  name  this  malady,  neither  may 
I  close  my  eyes  in  sleep  with  such  heavy  doubts  upon 
me.  Your  words  have  terrified  me.  Perchance  I  imag- 
ine evils  far  greater  than  those  that  are  pursuing  you. 
Why  have  you  not  written  oftener?  I  have  sent  you 
three  letters  for  every  one  you  wrote  me.  Not  a  word 
have  you  told  me  of  any  danger  that  beset  you.  But 
now,  do  you  come  to  me  and  drop  me  a  hint  that  makes 
my  old  blood  run  cold,  then  bid  me  talk  of  other  things  ? 
Nay,  nay !  It  cannot  be  !  " 

El  Chopo  drew  the  Jesuit  towards  his  easy  chair,  and 
thrusting  him  gently  by  the  elbow  made  him  sit  down ; 
then,  kneeling  beside  him  took  one  of  his  hands  between 
his  own,  first  kissed  it  reverently,  then  retained  it  tightly 
clasped.  For  a  few  moments  he  appeared  to  be  deeply 
moved,  turning  his  face  towards  the  balcony  and  inhal- 
ing the  sweet  perfume  which  the  breeze  brought  gently 
from  the  vega  and  the  orchard,  then  at  last  he  spoke. 

"  What  thought,"  he  asked  slowly,  still  gazing  towards 
the  night,  "  should  be  the  first  and  foremost  in  the  mind 
of  an  upright  man  ? " 

"  The  thought  of  his  Creator." 
240 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"Aye!" 

El  Chopo  gave  this  affirmation  in  a  voice  so  solemn, 
so  deep,  and  so  profoundly  sad,  that  Padre  Ignacio  bent 
upon  him  a  look  of  agonized  suspense.  The  young  man, 
however,  continued  to  avert  his  face,  kneeling  there  still 
as  a  statue,  an  unspeakable  gloom  upon  his  features. 

"  I  have  come  to  you,"  continued  El  Chopo,  "  as  a 
sick  man  with  a  complicated  disease  might  come  to  a 
great  physician.  As  a  victim  of  consumption,  who 
believes  that  his  lungs  have  gone,  comes  to  the  special- 
ist and  submits  himself  to  the  stethoscope,  anxiously 
eyeing  the  doctor  when  he  shakes  his  head,  so  I  have 
come  to  you.  And  just  as  such  a  physical  sufferer 
might  promise  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart  to  carry 
out  the  physician's  orders  and  prescription,  so  do  I 
promise  to  submit  myself  to  whatever  discipline  your 
wisdom  may  prescribe." 

The  Jesuit  was  pale,  and  his  voice  almost  faltered  as 
he  replied  — 

"  Let  me  first  know  your  symptoms.  Tell  me  the 
very  worst." 

There  was  a  death-like  silence,  in  which  two  hearts 
could  almost  be  heard  beating.  El  Chopo  clasped  the 
Jesuit's  hand  yet  tighter,  as  though  fearing  that  it 
might  be  snatched  away  from  him,  then  he  said  — 

"The  name  of  my  Redeemer  is,  for  me,  an  empty 
form.  When  I  use  the  name  of  God  it  is  but  a  con- 
ventionality. You  sent  me  out  a  fervent  Christian ; 
I  have  returned  to  you  —  an  infidel !  " 

When  this  last  deep  word  had  ceased  to  vibrate  in 
the  evening  air  —  and  to  both  father  and  son  it  ap- 
peared to  echo  and  re-echo  round  the  room  in  every 
corner,  and  to  swell  high  up  above  the  orchard  towards 
the  stars  like  the  announcement  of  a  crime  —  both  men 
remained  as  still  as  if  they  were  of  marble. 
R  241 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

One  might  have  counted  a  hundred  before  Padre 
Ignacio  uttered  any  sound.  When  he  did  so  it  was 
half  a  sob  and  half  a  sigh,  a  sound  produced  by  terror 
and  amazement;  then,  falling  back  in  his  chair  and 
clasping  the  young  man's  hand  upon  his  bosom,  he 
regarded  him  with  a  look  such  as  David  might  have 
turned  upon  Absalom  when  he  came  before  him  with 
the  blood  of  Amnon  on  his  head,  a  look  full  of  love 
and  horror  intermingled. 

Into  the  eyes  of  El  Chopo  there  came  a  glad  light  of 
thankfulness  when  he  felt  the  warm  pressure  of  the 
Jesuit's  hands. 

"If  my  malady  be  incurable,"  continued  El  Chopo, 
"it  shall  not  be  for  want  of  submitting  myself  to 
whatever  remedy  you  impose,  however  hard  that 
remedy  may  be. 

"When  I  tell  you  all  this,  do  you  wonder  that  I 
flee  the  new  life  and  betake  me  to  the  old,  whilst  yet 
there  remains  to  me  the  happiness  that  is  left,  the 
spirit  of  restfulness  and  contentment,  the  power  for 
enjoyment  that  my  southern  emotions  can  still  afford 
me  ?  Who  knows  but  what  such  emotions  are  the 
mainspring  of  religion,  and  possessing  them  perhaps 
my  faith  may  yet  return  ?  After  all,  have  not  the 
poet  and  the  artist  —  " 

"  Stop  ! "  cried  Padre  Ignacio,  rising  in  terror  from 
his  chair.  "You  know  not  what  you  are  saying. 
Religion  has  naught  of  such  things  !  " 

He  paused  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  there  came 
over  him  a  recollection.  As  in  a  dream  he  saw  himself 
again  in  early  youth.  In  a  few  moments  the  struggle 
of  those  days  passed  before  him  once  more.  The 
young  would-be  logician  who  warred  with  the  dogma- 
tists and  almost  convinced  himself  that  the  truth  was 
false,  the  sensationalist  who  surrendered  to  an  idle 

242 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

coincidence,  the  scene  at  early  dawn  —  all  these  things 
came  over  him.  "  Emotions  !  "  Why  should  this  youth 
make  use  of  such  a  word  ?  Had  he  delved  more 
deeply  than  his  predecessor  ?  How  truly  rang  the 
note,  and  yet  how  solemn ! 

"  Forgive  me,"  said  the  other,  "  if  my  words  appeared 
blasphemous.  It  was  not  my  intention.  I  find  in 
religion  a  fund  of  great  beauty ;  I  doubt  if  the  world 
has  rightly  understood  what  religion  means;  I  doubt 
if  I  do  myself.  But  its  meaning  may  be  more  lovely 
than  any  one  yet  has  realized.  My  great  desire  is  to 
approach  it  along  a  different  path,  to  view  it  from  a 
different  standpoint,  and  my  stumbling  feet  cannot 
select  that  one  point  in  the  valley  whence  the  Deity 
may  be  seen  in  a  light  that  is  true  and  consistent.  It 
is  to  you  I  come  for  guidance." 

"  Alas ! "  said  Padre  Ignacio  with  a  heavy  sigh, 
"  you  have  wandered  from  a  path  into  which  I  may 
never,  perhaps,  be  able  to  lead  you  back.  You  are 
stumbling  into  a  morass.  This  talk  of  '  emotion,'  of 
1  poetry  '  proves  to  me  how  desperate  is  your  case.  Oh, 
my  God  !  That  this,  of  all  things,  should  overtake  you !  " 

And  the  priest's  melancholy  grew  more  and  more 
intense.  One  terrible  thought  made  him  almost  shudder. 
Could  this  be  chastisement  ? 

Had  God  abstained  from  branding  his  offspring's  body 
with  some  disease,  only  to  infuse  a  yet  more  dreadful 
taint  into  his  understanding  ? 

"  See !  "  cried  El  Chopo  with  a  sad  smile,  still  on  his 
knees  and  holding  out  his  hands,  "  is  not  this  already 
half  the  battle  ?  Here  am  I  longing  with  all  the 
strength  that  is  in  me  to  be  brought  back.  Will  you 
not  help  me  ?  " 

"  This  is  a  task  that  must  take  much  time,"  replied 
Padre  Ignacio. 

243 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

"  But  —  there  is  hope,  you  think  ?  " 

"  Be  the  malady  ever  so  terrible,  whilst  there  is  life 
there  is  hope.  I  will  say  more,  the  very  fact  of  your 
longing  for  salvation  would  appear,  at  first  sight,  to 
carry  us  many  miles  along  the  road.  Alas  !  there  is 
another  way  of  looking  at  it.  If,  with  all  this  keen 
desire  to  believe,  you  have  battled  with  Satan  in  vain, 
the  enemy  must  indeed  have  strongly  invested  the 
citadel,  and  how  can  I,  a  poor  sad  priest,  hew  me  a  road 
through  such  a  dense  array  ?  " 

"  Yet  you  are  the  only  one  who  could  hope  for  victory 
when  leading  such  a  forlorn  hope  as  this." 

Padre  Ignacio  thought  awhile ;  then  going  to  the 
bookcase  he  selected  three  small  volumes,  two  of  them 
in  French,  and  brought  them  to  El  Chopo. 

"This  poison,"  said  the  Priest,  "was  conveyed  to  you 
in  French  ? " 

"  Not  in  the  first  place.  Yet  French  works  confirmed 
me  in  my  unbelief." 

"  I  thought  so.  And,  like  the  true  homoeopathist, 
my  first  attack  will  be  delivered  in  the  same  direction. 
Take  these  three  books  and  come  to  me  when  you 
have  read  them.  Meanwhile,  that  I  may  analyze  the 
poisoned  water  of  the  well  you  have  been  drinking 
from,  and  duly  prepare  my  antidote,  send  me  under 
seal  such  books  of  evil  genius  as  may  be  among  your 
baggage.  After  a  couple  of  days  I  shall  be  fully 
equipped  to  meet  you  in  fair  fight,  till  then — we  will 
talk  of  others  matters." 

******** 

Some  days  elapsed  before  El  Chopo  returned  to  the 
Jesuit  College,  days  of  keenest  pleasure  in  so  far 
as  his  appreciation  of  the  well-beloved  landscape  was 
concerned,  and  marked  by  excursions  on  horseback  or 
on  foot  to  view  the  familiar  haunts.  On  each  of  these 

244 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

days,  at  the  hour  when  people  are  wont  to  sit  at  their 
balconies,  he  passed  by  the  house  of  Dofia  Carna 
Gonzalez,  and  he  seemed  to  have  informed  himself 
fully,  for  his  eyes  always  fell  upon  the  balcony  of  her 
room.  Yet  he  never  once  caught  sight  of  her,  and 
this  seemed  to  trouble  him. 

When  he  returned  to  Santa  Fe  at  eventide  each  day, 
his  brow  was  knit  with  a  frown  of  deep  abstraction, 
and  often  he  would  pace  the  beach  of  Cinco  Caminos 
with  his  hands  behind  his  back,  treading  the  sand  and 
shells  without  perceiving  them,  although  his  gaze  was 
bent  steadily  upon  them.  His  evenings  he  devoted  to 
the  books  that  Padre  Ignacio  had  given  him. 

My  pen  is  not  equal  to  recording  all  the  eloquence 
of  Padre  Ignacio's  discourse,  an  eloquence  subtle  yet 
simple,  and  wondrously  attuned  to  the  knowledge  and 
condition  of  his  listener. 

El  Chopo,  listening,  admired  him,  and  sighed  most 
heavily  to  find  his  gaze  focussed  upon  the  frail  analogy 
which  lay  at  the  base  of  the  Jesuit's  argument. 

At  first  Padre  Ignacio's  attack  was  delivered  with 
much  confidence ;  but  the  enemy's  defence,  though  un- 
willing and  perfunctory,  in  the  commencement,  waxed 
bolder  as  time  went  on. 

It  was  not  very  long  before  El  Chopo,  for  his  part, 
had  forgotten  that  he  was  there  with  a  wish  to  be 
convinced. 

He  brought  forth  all  his  artillery,  and  indeed  his 
weapons  were  far  more  modern  than  those  of  his  ad- 
versary, who  often  paused  and  retreated  before  their 
fire,  only  to  advance  again  along  a  different  line. 

Many  hours  passed  over  their  heads,  and  they  rea- 
soned with  each  other  until  the  dawn  was  breaking. 

When  they  arose  the  table  was  littered  with  books 
and  manuscripts.  Here  lay  a  Bible,  there  a  theological 

245 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

work,  whilst  a  Spanish  translation  of  Hamlet  had 
fallen  to  the  floor.  Josephus  lay  alongside  Voltaire, 
and  an  autograph  essay  of  Padre  Ignacio's  was  half 
hidden  beneath  the  works  of  Plato,  Bacon,  and  Thomas 
Paine.  And  with  whom  lay  the  victory  ?  With  neither ! 
The  infidel  maintained  his  position  and  sat  securely  in 
the  trenches  he  would  so  willingly  have  surrendered. 
The  Christian,  not  altogether  discouraged,  yet  some- 
what perplexed  by  new  veins  of  thought  he  had  never 
as  yet  been  called  upon  to  trace,  drew  back  upon  his 
base,  surprised  to  find  the  enemy  so  well  equipped. 
But  there  was  this  difference. 

Whereas  El  Chopo  was  listening  to  arguments  which 
he  knew  of  old  —  though  perhaps  much  better  expressed 
— the  Jesuit  was  hearing  new  theories  which  were  so 
strange  as  to  be  worthy  of  meditation. 

It  would  be  saying  too  much  to  record  that  Padre 
Ignacio's  belief  was  suddenly  undermined  in  this  one 
discussion.  He  was  firm  of  will,  and  having  once 
decided,  generally  stood  by  his  convictions.  Moreover, 
one  does  not  often  forsake  the  principles  of  a  lifetime 
between  sunset  and  sunrise. 

Yet  this  debate  was  the  origin  of  much  mischief, 
and  caused  a  resurrection  of  old  doubts.  El  Chopo, 
all  unconsciously,  was  lending  himself  to  that  enemy 
who  "came  and  sowed  tares  among  the  wheat  and 
went  his  way." 

One  sometimes  sees  a  chess-player  teach  a  beginner 
every  move  he  knows,  instruct  him  in  gambits,  attack 
of  pawns  and  other  subtleties,  and,  after  many  lessons, 
one  evening  the  pupil  gets  the  better  of  the  master. 

The  case  of  Padre  Ignacio  might,  in  some  things,  be 
likened  to  this. 

But  I  would  use  another  simile.  The  bather  who, 
whilst  wading,  strikes  his  leg  against  a  rock  does  not 

246 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

remark  the  pain  as  being  acute,  and  believes,  very 
naturally,  that  the  injury  is  slight. 

Reaching  dry  ground,  he  bethinks  him  to  look  at 
the  contusion,  and  then  for  the  first  time,  he  observes 
that  the  wound  is  far  more  serious  than  he  had  thought. 

This  was   to   be    the    Jesuit's    predicament   on   the 

morrow. 

##**#### 

"  Enough  for  to-night,"  said  Padre  Ignacio,  "  of 
this  terrible  task  you  have  set  me.  To-morrow  or  the 
next  day  it  shall  be  resumed.  I  must  have  time  to 
analyze  carefully  your  dangerous  fallacies." 

" '  Enough  for  to-night,'  "  repeated  the  young  man 
smiling.  "  Why,  here  is  the  rosy  dawn,"  and  blowing 
out  the  lamp  he  went  to  the  balcony,  whose  persianas 
he  opened  wide  apart. 

"  Look !  "  said  the  priest,  "  how  yonder  great  orb  of 
day  climbs  up  the  mountain  side,  flooding  the  orchard 
with  gold.  Even  so  may  the  Great  Light  dawn  upon 
your  darkness  before  many  days  have  passed.  Come 
into  the  balcony,  glance  to  your  left  and  right,  listen  to 
the  birds  that  are  twittering  their  matins  in  the  pear 
tree,  and  the  cigarr6n  who  wakes  to  a  day  of  gladness. 
You,  with  the  heart  of  a  Spaniard,  can  you  believe 
that  all  this  wealth  of  beauty  is  begotten  of  chance  ? " 

"An  appeal  to  my  emotion !"  said  El  Chopo  sadly. 
"  I  cannot  answer  your  question.  It  is  difficult  to  see 
how  all  this  can  be  the  outcome  of  chance.  Yet  who- 
ever created  it,  it  was  not  the  God  that  our  forefathers 
worshipped.  Our  system  of  deities  is  half  pagan,  and 
the  Virgin  Mary  is  Diana  of  Ephesus." 

When  the  young  man  spoke  these  words  he  was 
standing  close  by  the  wall  which  divided  the  Rector's 
room  from  that  of  Padre  Martinez.  A  person  standing 
upon  a  higher  level  might  have  seen  a  slight  movement 

247 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

through  the  perforations  of  a  ventilator  which  in 
winter  time  connected  the  two  rooms  with  the  outer 
air. 

Of  the  interview  between  the  Rector  and  El  Chopo, 
several  sentences,  spoken  louder  than  the  rest,  had 
found  their  way  through  this  ventilator.  Amongst 
others,  these  :  — 

"  Not  the  God  that  our  forefathers  worshipped.  Our 
system  of  deities  is  half  pagan,  and  the  Virgin  Mary  is 
Diana  of  Ephesus." 

Meanwhile,  father  and  son,  unconscious  of  any 
listener,  stood  together  in  the  balcony  watching  the 
shadows  dissolving  on  the  mountains,  the  foliage  in 
front  of  them  glistening  with  dew,  and  the  black  figs 
which  were  ready  to  gather  and  only  awaited  the  feast 
of  San  Juan. 

Then  arose  a  clamour  from  the  little  belfry  on  their 
right,  and  footsteps  were  heard  along  the  corridors  as 
the  fathers  trooped  down  to  prayers. 

"  Come,"  said  Padre  Ignacio  with  a  smile,  "  let  me 
take  your  arm.  It  will  not  be  the  first  time  we  have 
gone  down  to  matins  together,  you  and  I." 

"  And  do  you  not  reckon  it  sacrilege,  for  me  to  attend 
your  worship  ? " 

"The  Jesuit,"  said  Padre  Ignacio,  "looks  at  such 
matters  in  a  broader  spirit.  God  takes  not  offence  at 
the  presence  of  an  honest  infidel,  so  long  as  he  comes 
not  to  scoff.  And  at  least  you  know  how  to  respect 
the  belief  of  others,  though  not  sharing  it  yourself. 
You,  of  all  people,  have  most  reason  to  attend  our  mass, 
for  you  have  more  need  to  pray  than  any  one." 

"  How  may  I  pray  ?  " 

" '  Ask,  and  it  shall  be  given  you ;  seek,  and  ye  shall 
find  ;  knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened  unto  you.'  " 

And  so  saying  the  Father  Rector  leant  upon  the 
248 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

young  man's  stalwart  arm  and  together  they  both  went 
down  in  silence  to  the  chapel. 

It  was  the  Eve  of  St.  John  the  Baptist 

******** 

La  vispera  de  San  Juan  Bautista,  and  Dofta  Carna 
with  Susana  by  her  side,  the  mistress  in  black  silk  dress 
and  black  mantilla,  the  maid  in  black  cotton  clothes  and 
a  white  blossom  in  her  hair,  had  trudged  all  the  way  to 
the  College  by  the  pathway  through  the  sugar  factory, 
saving  the  dusty  road  and  half  a  mile. 

Matins  were  over,  and  Padre  Ignacio,  leaning  on  the 
arm  of  El  Chopo,  had  walked  once  or  twice  up  and 
down  the  avenue  of  palms,  when  Dofla  Carna,  radiant 
as  a  blush-rose  in  the  sunshine,  her  black  silk  skirts 
falling  'gracefully  round  her  pretty  figure,  entered  at  the 
gate  and  came  up  the  steps  just  at  the  moment  when 
the  Father  Rector  and  his  companion  arrived  at  the  end 
of  the  path  and  faced  her. 

The  result  was  inevitable. 

"  My  nephew,  Sefior  Nieto,  returned  from  abroad," 

said  Padre  Ignacio  ;  "and  this  is  Dofia ,  but — you 

have  met  before,  then  ? " 

"  Sefior  Nieto  was  introduced  to  me  in  Salamanca," 
replied  Dona  Carna  in  explanation  of  the  young  man's 
impetuous  greeting. 

El  Chopo  had  only  said  a  few  words  with  his  tongue, 
but  this  is  what  he  said  with  his  eyes,  as  clearly  as 
could  be  :  — 

"  Fair  lady,  had  I  spoken  with  you  before  I  left 
Santa  Fe,  I  had  never  gone  abroad  ;  since  I  saw  you, 
behold  me  back  again  ;  and  now,  though  you  journeyed 
to  the  farthest  corner  of  the  earth,  I  have  the  heart  to 
follow  you." 

And  be  sure  Dona  Carna  understood  him,  for  as  soon 
as  she  looked  him  in  the  face  she  dropped  her  lashes, 

249 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

and,  giving  him  good  morning,  murmured  that  she  was 
already  late  for  confession,  and  passed  upon  her  way. 

"  '  Confession  ! '  "  repeated  the  young  man,  turning 
round  to  gaze  after  her  and  speaking  his  thoughts  aloud, 
"  and  pray  what  commissions  and  omissions  may  a  being 
like  that  have  weighing  upon  her  soul  ? " 

Whereupon  he  laughed,  and  stood  there  nursing  his 
chin  with  his  arms  half  folded,  and  watched  the  great 
oak  door  with  its  massive  studs  of  iron  as  it  swung  open 
to  the  graceful  visitor,  without  any  knocking,  and  closed 
again  behind  her. 

The  Father  Rector  had  watched  the  whole  of  this 
incident  with  close  interest,  and  looked  at  the  young 
man's  face  so  earnestly  that  he  surely  must  have  read 
the  light  that  shone  in  his  eyes. 

Had  El  Chopo  been  equally  watchful  of  his  com- 
panion, instead  of  so  absorbed,  he  might,  in  his  turn, 
have  perceived  a  slight  start,  an  involuntary  movement 
of  the  hands,  and  the  lips  half  opening,  as  happens  to  a 
groper  in  the  dark  when  his  eye  receives  the  impact  of 
a  sudden  gleam  of  light. 

"  Do  you  know  this  lady  intimately  ? "  asked  Padre 
Ignacio  with  a  smile. 

"  No  !  "  said  El  Chopo  with  a  long-drawn  sigh  (as 
who  should  say  "  Alas  !  "  ). 

"  You  think  her  comely  ? " 

"  Eh  ?  Certainly,  yes,  I  consider  her  comely,"  re- 
turned El  Chopo  recovering  himself  and  resuming  his 
walk  with  yet  another  sigh. 

"  People  that  know  her  say  that  her  mind  is  yet  more 
comely  than  her  face." 

The  other  made  no  answer. 

"  This  evening,"  continued  Padre  Ignacio,  in  a  voice 
that  was  intended  for  soliloquy,  and  gazing  far  out  to 
sea  between  the  palm  trees,  "  she  will  go  down  to  the 

250 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

Guadalote  with  her  maids  at  midnight,  and  baptize  her- 
self with  water  from  the  river.  You  remember  the  old 
custom  on  St.  John  the  Baptist's  Eve,  or  shall  I  say 
'superstition '  ?  " 

"Ha!"  said  El  Chopo,  looking   moodily   upon   the 
ground,  and  presently  took  his  leave. 


251 


CHAPTER  XVI 

"  On  the  eve  of  good  Saint  John 

Nuts  are  ripe  and  figs  are  sweet ; 
Every  lad  that  loves  a  lass 
Walks  abroad  his  lass  to  meet." 

Imitation  of  an  Old  Spanish  Song. 

IT  was  etiquette  in  Santa  Fe  among  the  gentlefolk, 
even  in  the  summers  that  came  a  month  too  soon, 
to  let  the  black  figs  rot   upon  the  bough  rather  than 
gather  them  before  San  Juan. 

After  returning  from  confession,  Dona  Carna  spent 
the  morning  in  the  orchard  with  her  maids,  gathering 
the  figs  whose  doomsday  had  sounded  from  the  cathe- 
dral tower  that  morning. 

San  Juan  had  dawned  in  all  his  wonted  glory.  Prep- 
arations were  afoot  for  the  evening's  celebration,  though 
such  work  was  partly  demoralized  by  the  fierce  swelter 
of  a  midsummer  sun.  To  keep  him  out,  great  awnings 
had  been  stretched  from  balcony  to  balcony  across  the 
main  streets  of  Santa  Fe. 

In  the  quiet  orchard,  with  its  ironstone-coloured  earth, 
the  fig  trees  themselves  gave  shade  enough,  whilst  a 
sleepy  buzz  of  insects  told  that  the  wasps  and  flies  were 
as  glad  to  see  San  Juan  as  anybody.  Wherever  a 
wounded  fig  lay  piteous  on  the  ground  with  its  purple 
entrails  split  open  to  the  air  a  great  crowd  of  these 
marauders  would  come  clamouring  like  vultures  on  a 
horse  which  has  been  left  dead  upon  the  battle-field. 

252 


To  assist  the  kitchen-maids  Ti'o  Patas  was  present, 
and  with  him  was  the  notary  of  a  fishing-boat,  engaged 
for  the  occasion. 

It  was  found  that  the  maid-servants  declined  to  perch 
themselves  upon  the  ladders  whilst  the  men  were  on 
the  ground ;  and  further,  as  the  ladders  were  only  two 
in  number,  the  girls  undertook  to  gather  whatever  they 
could  reach  whilst  standing  on  wooden  chairs,  leaving 
the  men  to  scale  the  dizzier  heights. 

"  An  arrangement  quite  symbolic,"  said  Dona  Felipa, 
"  of  the  two  sexes  and  their  relative  scopes  of  action." 

In  a  far  corner  of  the  orchard  Susana  was  gathering 
figs.  Towards  her  came  Dona  Carna,  bringing  another 
basket,  lifted  down  the  full  one  and  gave  her  up  the 
empty  one. 

"  I  did  not  catch  his  Christian  name,"  said  Carna. 

"  Whose  ?  That  gentleman  with  the  French-looking 
face  that  we  saw  in  Salamanca  ?  " 

"Aye!  And  this  morning  at  the  College.  But,  in- 
deed, there's  nothing  French  about  him !  " 

"Well,  he  was  wearing  French  breeches,  I'd  be 
sworn,  and  his  look  isn't  altogether  Spanish." 

"  That  just  shows  your  ignorance  !  " 

"  Well,  he  has  been  in  France ;  you  said  so  yourself, 
Senora  ! " 

"  What  is  his  name  though  ?  " 

"That  is  more  than  I  know." 

Susana  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  Dofta  Carna  sat 
down  beside  the  basket,  blew  away  a  tiny  red  ant  from 
the  topmost  fig,  and  leaning  her  bare  arms  across  the 
handle  and  her  chin  upon  her  wrist,  sat  thoughtfully 
watching  a  gold  and  emerald  lizard  which  was  peeping 
at  her  from  a  hole  in  the  roots  of  the  fig  tree. 

Presently  Susana  drew  a  long  breath  and  started 
singing,  at  first  ever  so  low,  then  louder  and  louder, 

253 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

then  sinking  into  a  lament  when  she  came  to  the  last 
few  words. 

"  Keep  this  golden  orange  ever, 

From  my  orchard  gathered  new. 
Knife  of  steel  it  may  not  sever 
Or  my  heart  you  cut  in  two." 1 

Dofia  Carna  listened  without  looking  up. 

"  Susana ! " 

"What,  Seflora?" 

"  He  isn't  so  bad  looking,  eh  ?  " 

"  Pish !     I've  seen  worse !  " 

"  I'll  wager  you  haven't  seen  so  very  many  better." 

"One  such  was  here  last  night." 

"Who?  Don  Luis?  Oh,  as  for  him  —  "  (A 
pause.) 

"  You  were  saying  ?  " 

"That  makes  three  figs  you've  dropped  since  I've 
been  here." 

This  caused  Susana  to  drop  another,  and  it  fell 
splosh !  right  in  front  of  the  lizard's  nose.  This  con- 
firmed his  suspicions  as  to  the  ominous  nature  of  these 
rites,  and,  like  a  miniature  flash  of  lightning,  he  shot 
back  into  his  hole. 

In  the  middle  of  a  giant  fig  tree  was  Ti'o  Patas,  and 
the  notary  was  perched  below  him.  Nobody  was 
within  earshot. 

"  Come,  you  shall  give  me  five  reals  out  of  the 
twelve,"  said  Tfo  Patas  to  the  fisherman. 

"  Would  you  skin  me  like  a  fig  ? "  moaned  the  notary, 
looking  up  through  the  foliage.  "  Have  you  no  honour, 
man  ? " 

"  Honour  and  profit  won't  both  keep  in  the  same 
sack." 

1  From  the  Spanish. 
254 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

"  Nay,  but  this  is  no  fair  manner  of  profit.  'Tis  plain 
blood-sucking." 

"  Pish  !  Tis  only  milk-sucking.  '  A  gentle  calf 
sucks  her  own  mother  and  three  cows  more.'  I  am  a 
'  gentle  calf.'  Hold  your  hat !  " 

Ti'o  Patas  shot  three  figs  into  the  hat.  The  notary 
transferred  them  to  a  basket  and  put  his  hat  on  again. 

"That  makes  the  fourth,"  said  Tfo  Patas  to  himself. 

"  Four  what  ? " 

"  Figs  in  your  hat." 

"  You  only  put  in  three,"  returned  the  other,  taking 
off  his  hat  to  look  inside. 

"  You've  just  taken  one  out." 

The  notary  turned  his  hat  round  and  round,  and 
looked  first  at  the  lining,  then  at  Tfo  Patas,  who 
chuckled  very  much  to  himself  and  enjoyed  the  joke 
immensely. 

"What  I  mean,"  said  Ti'o  Patas  at  length,  becoming 
very  snappish,  "  is  that  —  j  vaya !  —  may  the  devil  toast 
me  browner  than  a  coffee  bean  if  ever  you  gather  figs 
with  me  again." 

"Take  your  five  reals,"  grunted  the  other. 

" '  Take  your  five  reals,' "  squeaked  Ti'o  Patas. 
"  j  Ca.-ra-c0tes !  What  a  good  grace  to  fling  them  at 
me  with !  This  is  gratitude !  This  is  your  return  to 
me  for  all  my  influence !  And  what  would  you  be 
earning  if  I  hadn't  dragged  you  in  ?  Twelve  reals, 
eh  ?  He !  he !  he !  Or  six,  eh  ?  or  shall  we  say 
three  ?  " 

"  Four,"  replied  the  notary  sullenly. 

"  Ah,  four,  to  be  sure.  Four  reals  a  day  for  drag- 
ging your  guts  out  at  the  nets.  Instead  of  which  I 
arrange  for  you  to  receive  seven  reals  paid  in  cash  — 
seven  reals  have  I  found  for  this  animal"  (here  he 
raised  his  face  and  hands  to  heaven,  in  parenthesis, 

255 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

and  the  whites  of  his  eyes  glistened  with  pathos),  "  and 
look  at  him  !  Take  but  one  glance  at  his  face !  " 

Ti'o  Patas  held  the  boughs  on  one  side  and  the  fisher- 
man, as  though  conscious  that  all  the  saints  above 
were  crowding  to  the  nearest  chink  to  look  at  him, 
carefully  hid  his  face  and  became  very  busy  with  his 
work. 

Meanwhile,  up  the  hillside  above  Cinco  Caminos,  and 
even  through  the  streets  of  Santa  Fe,  every  mother's 
son  who  had  a  pair  of  arms  was  carrying  faggots,  chair 
legs,  broken  props,  old  mats,  old  boxes,  old  bedsteads, 
and  discarded  furniture  of  every  shape  and  kind. 

For  the  night  was  to  witness  a  terrible  Auto  de  Fe, 
a  crying  in  vain  for  mercy  by  millions  of  hapless  beings. 
Ask  not  their  name,  these  legions  doomed  to  the  stake ; 
let  me  tell  you  they  were  notorious  back-biters  and  had 
never  known  baptism  of  water.  To  the  flames  with 
them ;  it  is  enough ! 

From  the  sea-shore  came  ribs  of  old  fisher-boats,  and 
all  manner  of  flotsam  and  jetsam  which  they  piled  along 
the  streets.  The  Municipal  Serrenos  assisted  the  ar- 
rangements, and  marked  off  the  number  of  paces  along 
the  road  'twixt  bonfire  and  bonfire.  The  Guardias 
Civiles  looked  on  with  folded  arms.  On  Sunday  they 
would  wear  white  breeches  and  march  down  to  the  bull- 
ring four  abreast  with  fixed  bayonets  to  awe  the  excited 
mob  and  prevent  their  scaling  the  barrier  between 
"Sol"  and  "  Sombra." 

At  the  bull-ring  men  were  carrying  hurdles,  whilst 
others  prepared  holes  in  the  ground  with  iron  crowbars. 
The  feet  of  the  hurdles  were  then  inserted  in  the  holes 
and  rammed  round  tightly  with  pebbles.  Behind  the 
hurdles  came  planks  of  wood  and  boxes,  the  whole  pali- 
sade being  lashed  together  with  ropes  of  soga.  This 
palisading  was  funnel-shaped,  the  small  end  leading  to 

256 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

the  door  of  the  courtyard  or  "  corral,"  the  wide  end 
lying  in  the  direction  of  the  road  from  Cinco  Caminos. 

On  the  Sunday  after  San  Juan  a  magnificent  bull-fight 
was  to  take  place,  and  this  was  very  much  talked  about. 

Firstly,  it  was  the  bull-fight  of  St.  John  the  Baptist, 
and  if  St.  John  the  Baptist's  name  is  not  sufficient 
guarantee  for  a  first-class  bull-fight,  I  have  lost  my 
opinion  of  the  saints  ! 

Secondly,  eight  bulls  were  to  be  fought !  No  ordi- 
nary half-hearted  six-bull  affair,  eight  mighty  "  Bulls  of 
Death  "  that  very  night  were  coming  down  by  the  road 
from  Valamo  and  the  mountains,  and  in  all  probability 
a  ninth,  in  case  of  a  mishap. 

What  a  buzz  of  voices  amongst  the  youngsters  as  to 
who  was  going  up  to  the  pass  to  see  them  come  pelting 
by,  and  who  was  afraid  !  There  were  even  those  who 
had  arranged  to  sit  in  the  middle  of  the  road  lighting 
cigarettes  till  the  bulls  were  almost  upon  them,  but  — 
"  man  proposes,  God  disposes."  There  is  that  in  the 
legs  of  a  man  that  will  not  sit  still  when  ten  hundred- 
weight of  beef  are  hurled  at  him  out  of  a  cannon. 

Thirdly  (and  this  was  causing  more  talk  than  any- 
thing), Carrasco  had  spread  a  proclamation  that  if  every 
other  person  in  the  bull-ring  were  an  agent  of  secret 
police,  and  those  in  between  them  Guardias  Civiles,  he 
would  be  there  in  person  and  view  the  fight  from  start 
to  finish. 

You  may  guess  that  with  these  themes  of  conversa- 
tion the  buzzing  of  a  beehive  in  which  every  bee  was 
the  size  of  a  full-grown  man  would  be  but  a  mild 
description  of  the  nightly  clamour  in  the  cafe's. 

The   quality  of   the  coffee  being  suited  to  a  certain 

daily  output,  when  the  output  was  doubled,  the  quality 

was  halved.     And  if  you  are  a  Spaniard,  please  observe 

that  this  fact  passed  unnoticed.     I  need  say  no  more  in 

s  257 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

proof  of  the  feverish  vibration  attained  by  the  public 
pulse.  And  "  Would  he  ? "  and  "  Wouldn't  he  ?  "  and 
"  Of  course  he  would,  and  snap  every  joint  of  his  fingers 
in  the  nose  of  the  Guardia  Civil !  " 

Many  who  came  into  the  principal  caf6  would  stand 
on  tip-toe  at  the  doorway,  cigarette  in  hand,  surveying 
the  sea  of  faces  with  eager  eye. 

What  were  they  looking  for  ?  A  friend  ?  No,  they 
had  bet  that  before  San  Juan  they  would  sit  at  the 
same  table  with  Carrasco,  and  they  were  looking  for 
him  under  every  broad-brimmed  hat. 

Those  with  black  whiskers  got  terribly  stared  at,  to 
be  sure.  And  it  is  my  firm  belief  (such  is  the  Andaluz 
character)  that  if  any  of  these  gamblers  had  met  their 
man,  they  would  have  deemed  it  an  honour  to  take 
coffee  with  him,  and  sooner  than  call  the  police  they 
had  cut  their  own  ears  off. 

In  the  great  central  Plaza  fronting  the  Cathedral  a 
score  of  booths  had  been  erected,  and  toys,  flowers, 
fans,  sweetmeats,  and  a  host  of  other  commodities 
were  disappearing  into  pockets  all  day  long.  There 
were  gold-fish  and  canaries,  moreover,  and  even  little 
tortoises  that  looked  very  wearily  from  side  to  side, 
then  blinked  their  eyes  and  pulled  their  heads  in,  a 
movement,  I  suppose,  equivalent  to  shrugging  their 
shoulders  at  mankind.  The  hubbub  at  night  was 
deafening. 

There  were  merry-go-rounds,  there  were  conjurers 
and  gymnasts. 

For  those  skilled  with  the  knife  there  were  sugar  canes, 
which  being  thrown  into  the  air  had  to  be  so  caught  on 
the  edge  of  the  blade  as  to  split  them  from  end  to  end. 
There  were  lottery  boxes  in  which  the  prizes  were 
sweets  and  tobacco,  the  number  being  decided  by  a 
spinning  index. 

258 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Then,  for  the  studious,  there  was  literature.  More 
battle,  murder,  and  sudden  death  for  twopence-half- 
penny than  you  could  buy  in  the  library  for  twenty 
dollars !  And  some  of  the  works  were  illustrated. 

"  The  Road  to  Heaven  and  the  Road  to  Hell,"  for 
instance,  was  a  triumph  of  subtlety  in  colours  displayed 
on  the  side  of  a  booth.  There  were  seven  stages  in 
each  direction.  This  enabled  people  to  put  their  fin- 
gers on  the  exact  spot  so  far  arrived  at  in  their  pilgrim- 
age, and  probably  accounted  for  the  road  to  heaven 
being  much  greasier  than  the  road  to  hell. 

Around  the  square  the  various  establishments  had 
every  window  thrown  open ;  and  though  the  chemists' 
shops  and  clubs  and  cafe's  were  neither  so  numerous 
nor  so  imposing  as  they  are  to-day,  they  sheltered  a 
goodly  crowd  of  idlers  who  located  themselves  at  the 
open  windows. 

Hundreds  of  country  people  had  come  into  town, 
and  their  picturesque  costumes  lent  a  warm  tone  to 
the  black  and  russet  of  the  townsfolk.  Though  even 
the  latter  had  broken  into  colours  so  far  as  the  fair 
sex  was  concerned,  and  many  a  beautiful  silk  shawl  of 
Manila  went  sweeping  past  the  critics  in  the  cafe's, 
and  many  a  fair  face  feigned  to  be  unconscious  of 
their  flattery,  but  failed  in  the  attempt. 

One  or  two  majos  might  be  seen,  though  most  of 
them  had  come  from  inland  villages  where  Dame 
Fashion  moves  but  slowly. 

They  were  dressed  in  close-fitting  jackets  of  bright- 
coloured  velvet  with  gold  ornaments  on  the  sleeves  and 
shoulders,  and  sashes  or  fajas  round  the  waist.  The 
trousers  were  also  decorated  with  tinsel  work  down 
the  seams,  and  in  one  or  two  cases  white  silk  stock- 
ings were  in  favour. 

It  may  well  be  imagined  that  the  scene  looked  out 
259 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

upon  by  those  inside  the  cafes  that  evening  was  daz- 
zling to  the  eye.  Here  a  gaping  countryman  in  lashed 
brown  leather  leggings  with  tassels ;  there  a  coy  girl 
of  eighteen  with  a  high  comb  fixed  in  her  hair  and  a 
red  carnation  on  one  side  of  it,  a  silk  network  hand- 
kerchief covering  her  heaving  bosom,  and  white  silk 
stockings  peeping  from  beneath  her  black  skirts ;  yon- 
der a  gipsy  with  mutton-chop  whiskers  and  a  coni- 
cal hat;  silk  balls  on  the  crown  and  brim  of  the 
hat ;  behind  him  a  priest  with  the  brims  of  his  hat 
turned  up ;  behind  the  priest  a  handsome  Civil  Guard 
in  black  and  white,  relieved  by  scarlet  and  gold; 
ten  paces  to  the  left  a  majo  in  emerald  green ;  on 
the  Cathedral  steps  three  cripples  begging,  their  rags 
a  perfect  study  in  russet  and  red ;  in  a  doorway 
two  ladies  in  black  silk,  with  high  combs  and  man- 
tillas, laughing  behind  their  fans.  Add  to  all  this  an 
incessant  chatter  of  people  whose  one  aim  was  to  be 
amused,  the  good-humoured  badinage  of  men  who 
collided  with  each  other,  the  occasional  strumming 
of  a  guitar  on  one  or  other  of  the  balconies,  or  the 
sound  of  the  gymnast's  horn  to  call  attention,  the 
clatter  of  coffee  cups  on  tables,  blowing  of  whistles  in 
booths,  clapping  of  hands,  yelling  of  boys,  barking  of 
dogs,  and  crying  of  babies,  and  I  think  you  will  have 
some  idea  of  the  great  square  in  Santa  Fe  on  the  Eve 
of  St.  John  the  Baptist. 

Moving  in  and  out  amongst  the  crowd  was  El  Chopo, 
and  his  face  spoke  eloquently  of  his  appreciation.  Al- 
ready he  had  exchanged  his  French  clothes  for  others 
of  a  homelier  type,  and,  consistent  with  his  desire  to 
be  one  of  the  people,  his  attire  was  more  modest  than 
belonged  to  his  wealth  and  education.  Now  he  would 
pause  to  watch  a  gipsy-woman  presiding  over  her  frying- 
pan  and  bunuelos.  Again  he  would  stand  beside  a  booth 

260 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

to  see  a  fat  mamma  buying  her  daughter  a  fan,  or  make 
himself  a  way  amongst  the  crowd  to  watch  the  conjurer, 
he  would  follow  a  couple  of  countrymen  round  the  fair 
to  hear  them  talk,  or  mount  the  Cathedral  steps  to  view 
the  panorama  from  a  distance. 

His  every  movement  spoke  of  the  enthusiast,  severed 
for  a  while  from  a  scene  that  his  heart  loved  best,  from 
a  scene  which  his  sojourn  abroad  had  taught  him  to 
idolize,  and  now  he  was  taking  his  fill. 

El  Chopo  was  not  so  absorbed  in  these  surroundings, 
however,  as  to  lose  all  count  of  the  time,  for  he  now 
and  then  looked  at  his  watch,  as  though  an  appoint- 
ment were  in  question,  and  when  half-past  eleven  was 
chimed  from  the  Cathedral  he  turned  his  back  on  the 
fair. 

It  was  a  beautiful  night,  the  moon  being  just  on  the 
wane,  but  yet  so  pure  and  silvery  as  to  render  the  cloud 
of  dust  along  the  road  to  Cinco  Caminos  as  visible  as  if 
a  searchlight  had  been  placed  every  few  yards  along 
the  way.  Vehicles  of  every  description  were  filling 
rapidly  and  driving  away  in  the  moonlight  towards  the 
river  Guadalote.  Into  one  of  these  conveyances  climbed 
El  Chopo,  and  was  whisked  away  helter-skelter  across 
the  Arroyo  and  bumped  from  side  to  side  as  the  coach 
flew  madly  from  one  rut  into  another  and  lurched  in 
every  direction. 

Ten  minutes  brought  him  abreast  of  the  Fonda  del 
Trini,  and  a  glimpse  at  the  entrance,  whence  issued  a 
flood  of  light,  showed  one  the  vine-covered  trellis  be- 
neath which  a  majo  and  maja  were  dancing  a  bolero. 
The  onlookers  clapped  their  hands  in  time  with  the 
music,  and  the  castanets  rattled  in  rising  or  dying  ca- 
dence as  the  dancers  grew  fired  with  passion  or  fell  into 
smiling  voluptuousness. 

Arrived  at  the  wooden  bridge  which  crosses  the  Gua- 
261 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

dalote,  El  Chopo  sprang  down  from  the  coach  and  paid 
the  driver  his  fare,  then  leant  upon  the  balustrade  of 
the  bridge  and  gazed  on  the  rushy  banks. 

People  were  walking  along  the  river  on  both  sides, 
crackling  in  amongst  the  willows  and  poplars,  and 
plunging  knee-deep  among  the  bulrushes.  Two  bon- 
fires had  been  lighted  upon  the  left  bank  and  others 
farther  away  along  the  right.  Some  of  the  people  car- 
ried lanterns,  and  these  contrasted  prettily  with  the 
moonshine  in  the  water.  Sometimes  one  would  hear 
the  laughter  of  the  girls  when  their  sweethearts  floun- 
dered into  treacherous  water-weeds. 

As  El  Chopo  leant  upon  the  balustrade  a  guitar  sud- 
denly twanged  upon  the  left  bank  behind  him,  and, 
after  a  rambling  prelude  of  many  chords,  a  man's  voice 
began  to  sing  — 

"  To  Saint  John  of  old  there  came 

Men  in  Jordan ; 
Seeking  Paradise  they  came 

All  in  Jordan. 
If  for  me  Manola's  eyes 

All  my  Paradise  comprise, 
Tell  me  how  may  I  baptize 

Not  in  Jordan." 

This  died  away,  and  the  guitar,  rising  and  falling  for 
a  few  moments,  broke  into  the  minor  when  a  woman's 
voice  answered  in  plaintive  tone  — 

"  When  we  quarrelled  yester  e'en, 

Wicked  tyrant ! 
Fell  my  lattice  bars  between 

(Cruel  tyrant ! ) 
Fell  the  tears  adown  my  cheek, 

Kissed  thy  head  and  wet  thy  feet, 
Christened  thee  a  Faithless  Cheat 
And  a  Tyrant ! " 
262 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

The  refrain  so  pleased  El  Chopo  that  he  found  him- 
self humming  it  again  and  again  as  with  hands  behind 
his  back  he  strolled  along  the  water's  edge  from  group 
to  group.  After  a  little  while  he  reached  a  point  where 
the  noisier  element,  the  lanterns,  guitars,  and  singing,  all 
disappeared,  and  arriving  at  a  clump  of  willows  which 
appeared  to  mark  the  limits  of  the  path,  he  paused  to 
gaze  yet  farther  in  the  moonlight.  It  was  then  that  he 
perceived  a  carriage  drawn  up  some  thirty  paces  from 
the  river,  the  driver  motionless  upon  his  box  and  a  lady 
seated  in  the  carriage  all  alone.  Opposite  this  carriage, 
but  kneeling  at  the  water's  edge,  were  Dofia  Carna  and 
Susana. 

The  young  man  strolled  towards  them  as  one  who 
comes  by  chance ;  yet  in  reality  his  heart  was  beating 
faster  than  before,  though  not  so  fast  as  Carna's  when  she 
looked  up  and  saw  him.  As  far  as  Carna  was  concerned 
she  would  have  allowed  him  to  pass  by  with  only  a  dis- 
tant "  good  night."  But  El  Chopo  was  determined  it 
should  be  otherwise.  He  stood  there  resolutely  in  front 
of  her,  and  persistently  engaged  her  in  conversation,  and 
with  so  good  a  grace,  so  courteous  a  deference,  that  little 
by  little  she  yielded,  and  at  length  was  surprised  to  find 
herself  quite  at  her  ease  and  talking  as  if  she  had  known 
him  for  many  years.  She  laughingly  referred  to  her 
presence  beside  the  river  and  hoped  that  he  would  not 
find  her  superstitious. 

"  It  is  a  quaint  old  custom,"  replied  El  Chopo,  "and 
the  world  would  be  uglier  without  it." 

"  Padre  Ignacio  said  you  were  his  nephew,"  she  con- 
tinued, looking  towards  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river 
very  hard. 

"  Yes." 

"  But  he  did  not  tell  me  your  name  of  baptism  ? " 

By  some  slight  token,  an  inflection  in  her  voice,  a  light 
263 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

in  her  dark  eyes,  El  Chopo  became  aware  that  the  ques- 
tion was  not  prompted  by  mere  curiosity. 

All  too  late  Dofia  Carna  comprehended  that  she  had 
shown  an  interest  in  this  stranger  which  might  disarm 
her  were  he  to  return  it.  Then  it  occurred  to  her  that 
it  would  not  be  very  bitter  were  he  to  do  so,  and  thus 
she  forgave  herself. 

"  I  have  never  been  baptized,"  he  made  reply ;  then 
after  a  pause  continued,  "  I  was  once  a  poor  fisher-boy 
on  the  beach  of  Cinco  Caminos.  I  worked  in  your 
father's  Fabrica.  They  called  me  El  Chopo." 

Dofia  Carna,  looking  upon  the  Vizcaino's  stalwart 
form,  remembered  her  father's  praises  of  him,  and  his 
past  history. 

"  '  El  Chopo,'  "  said  she  ;  "  I  do  not  like  the  name." 

"  Most  sweet  lady,  I  only  await  a  priest  as  fair  as  you 
to  do  the  christening." 

Dofia  Carna  blushed  deeply,  but  presently  controlled 
herself,  and  looking  upon  him  in  all  seriousness,  replied  : 

"  I  am  no  priest,  and  may  not  baptize  you !  " 

"  In  that  you  are  mistaken.  Give  me  a  name,  and  all 
who  speak  of  me  shall  call  me  by  it." 

What  was  this  charm  in  the  balmy  moonlight  evening 
that  made  his  words  so  thrillingly  sweet  to  her  ?  What 
witchery  of  this  night  of  fairy  revels  could  have  whis- 
pered so  foolish  an  impulse  as  that  which  now  took 
hold  of  her  ?  For,  after  a  pause,  during  which  Carna 
seemed  to  be  a  prey  to  conflicting  ideas,  she  suddenly 
turned  towards  El  Chopo,  and  with  a  smile  that  was  half 
nervous  and  a  voice  all  faltering  bade  him  bring  her 
water  in  his  hat  that  she  might  christen  him. 

In  a  moment  he  was  stooping  down  by  the  river's 
edge  among  the  willows. 

Just  as  he  was  about  to  scoop  the  water  in  his  hat  a 
long  black  water-snake  wriggled  out  from  among  the 

264 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

rushes  and  darted  away  on  the  surface  of  the  stream 
with  rapid  and  undulating  motion.  It  made  him 
shudder. 

The  idea  flashed  upon  his  mind  that  this  was  a  sign 
of  ill  omen  ;  then,  laughing  at  himself,  he  filled  his  hat 
with  water  and  quickly  returned. 

Susana,  smiling  and  astonished,  held  the  water,  and 
Dofta  Carna,  when  he  knelt  down,  dipped  her  fingers  in 
the  font,  and,  looking  at  Susana,  cried  laughingly :  — 

"  What  shall  we  call  him  ?  " 

"  Why,  Senora !  "  said  Susana.  "  Is  it  not  the  Eve  of 
San  Juan  ? " 

"  Of  course  !     Then  we  will  call  him  Juan." 

And  so  saying  she  sprinkled  his  head  with  water  and 
told  him  that  his  name  was  Juan. 


265 


CHAPTER   XVII 

"  I  would  not  wish 

Any  companion  in  the  world  but  you,  ' 
Nor  can  imagination  form  a  shape, 
Besides  yourself,  to  like  of." 

The  Tempest. 

AND  now,  good  reader,  since  a  very  fair  lady  has 
chosen  this  person  a  name,  would  it  not  be  rude 
in  us  to  call  him  El  Chopo  any  more  ?  Assured  of 
your  answer,  in  future  his  name  is  Juan. 

Meanwhile  Dofta  Felipa,  seated  in  the  carriage,  had 
scarcely  understood  the  events  that  were  taking  place 
beside  the  river. 

In  the  moonlight  she  had  perceived  a  biped  in  a 
cloak  approach  her  young  ward,  had  puckered  her 
forehead  with  wonder  and  strained  her  eyes  when  he 
went  to  kneel  down  by  the  river ;  but  when  he  came 
back  hatless,  knelt  at  Dofla  Carna's  feet  and  apparently 
received  her  benediction  with  laying  on  of  hands,  the 
old  woman's  bewilderment  was  great,  and  she  floundered 
out  of  the  coach  and  waddled  towards  the  river  like  an 
anxious  hippopotamus  when  the  hunter  attacks  her 
young. 

Susana  emptied  away  the  water  and  shook  the  hat. 

"  Don  Juan  Nieto,"  said  Dofta  Carna,  "  has  brought 
me  water  that  I  might  dip  my  fingers  in  it." 

This  explanation  sent  a  thrill  through  the  young  man's 
heart  for  two  good  reasons. 

In  the  first  place,  that  she  was  evidently  in  earnest 
266 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

about  his  name ;  in  the  second,  that  she  endeavoured 
to  conceal  what  had  been  happening. 

His  eyes  met  hers,  and  in  that  moment  they  under- 
stood each  other.  When  he  gave  her  a  look  of  gratitude 
she  was  unable  to  return  his  gaze  steadily.  Her  lashes 
fell  with  a  consciousness  she  could  not  overcome.  Her 
feelings  first  swayed  towards  contentment,  and  she  told 
herself  that  however  deeply  she  stood  committed  she 
would  not  undo  what  her  impulse  had  bidden  her  to 
perform.  Then  she  flushed  hotly  and  was  aghast  at 
her  foolish  predicament. 

When  Dona  Felipa  understood  that  the  newcomer 
was  no  less  a  person  than  the  nephew  of  Padre  Ignacio, 
her  manner  recovered  its  repose.  Even  had  she  wished 
to  read  the  riot  act  she  certainly  would  have  found  it 
impossible,  for  just  at  that  critical  moment  a  group  of 
people  came  towards  him,  three  ladies  and  two  gentle- 
men. The  ladies  were  the  widow,  Dofla  Maria  Lopez 
and  her  daughters  Lola  and  Concha.  Mariquita,  the 
eldest,  was  staying  with  an  aunt  in  Barcelona. 

In  Santa  Fe  the  widow  and  her  two  daughters  nightly 
prayed  that  Mariquita's  journey  might  not  be  in  vain, 
and  be  sure  that  Mariquita's  applications  to  heaven  for 
a  husband  were  not  less  frequent  or  less  fervent.  Three 
golden  ounces  had  it  cost  to  pay  the  diligence  and  God 
alone  knew  where  the  return  journey  was  coming  from  ! 

However,  sufficient  unto  the  day  was  the  evil  thereof ; 
to-night  was  the  Eve  of  St.  John,  and  Lola  and  Concha 
were  happy  and  light-hearted  as  only  a  Spaniard  can  be 
when  the  wolf  is  at  the  door. 

The  fourth  person  was  Jos6  Ramos,  returned  from 
Salamanca,  determined  not  to  miss  an  Eve  of  St.  John 
in  Santa  Fe. 

The  fifth  and  last  of  the  group  was  our  captain  of 
Civil  Guards,  who  bestowed  upon  Juan,  as  he  saluted 

267 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

him,  a  look  which  might  have  made  a  more  timorous 
man  feel  ill  at  ease.  I  must  tell  you  that  Don  Luis  had 
matured  a  very  pretty  plan. 

Dofia  Carna  having  proved  as  cold  to  him  as  the  far- 
away snow  of  the  Sierras,  Don  Luis  conceived  that  he 
might  perhaps  make  her  jealous. 

Lately  he  had  been  paying  marked  attention  to 
Concha  Lopez,  an  attention  warmly  appreciated  until 
its  origin  was  understood. 

Jos6  Ramos  was  a  distant  relation  of  the  widow  Lopez, 
and  when  he  saw  the  mother  and  two  girls  looking  sadly 
at  the  fans  in  the  Plaza,  he  had  forthwith  put  his  hand 
in  his  pocket  and,  in  order  that  he  might  not  be  accused 
of  being  partial,  bought  them  a  fan  apiece,  which  pleased 
them  mightily.  Whereupon  Don  Luis  had  joined  them 
and  offered  to  conduct  the  party  to  the  river  in  a  coach. 
And  here  they  were. 

First  of  all  the  girls  had  to  wet  their  faces  and  wish 
for  husbands  within  the  year,  and  this  caused  much 
amusement. 

The  three  men  were  made  to  stand  apart  whilst  the 
girls  ran  away  laughing,  followed  by  Carna,  the  two 
elder  ladies,  and  Susana-,  and  for  fully  ten  minutes  there 
was  such  a  sound  of  merriment  from  the  rushes  where 
the  girls  were  christening  themselves,  that  St.  John 
the  Baptist  surely  must  have  wished  he  were  on  earth 
again. 

Having  assured  themselves  husbands  within  the  year, 
and  having  set  the  water  a-rippling  in  the  moonlight  as 
if  it  were  much  amused,  Lola  and  Concha  touched  up 
their  hair,  adjusted  their  combs  and  mantillas,  and  came 
back  to  the  lonely  men,  who,  of  course,  had  a  few  mis- 
chievous jokes  saved  up  for  them,  such  as:  "jHija! 
If  you  only  dip  your  face  you'll  only  get  a  share  of  a 
husband."  "Best  dip  your  arms  and  legs."  "We 

268 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

would  have  held  your  clothes  for  you,"  and  so  on.  To 
which  the  girls  replied  "  that  it  was  not  for  husbands 
such  as  they  were  that  they  had  come  all  the  way  to 
Guadalote ;  of  that  they  might  be  sure,"  and  other  re- 
torts of  the  kind. 

Then  they  all  held  a  council  of  war. 

Clearly  they  must  climb  the  hill  by  the  Jesuits'  College 
on  their  way  back,  and  view  the  fires  and  fireworks  from 
the  height. 

So  the  carriages  were  summoned  and  they  drove  along 
the  road  to  Cinco  Caminos.  Jose"  sang  them  a  song  and 
the  girls  clapped  time  with  their  hands  when  they  came 
to  the  chorus,  the  widow  overlooking  such  frivolity  in 
view  of  the  solitude  and  in  honour  of  San  Juan. 

Don  Luis  was  rather  glum.  He  had  hoped  to  make 
the  fourth  in  Carna's  carriage,  but  Dofia  Felipa  was 
too  quick  for  him,  and  Juan  was  seated  beside  her 
before  the  captain  had  time  to  say  a  word. 

Arrived  at  the  Fonda  del  Trini  they  all  alighted,  leav- 
ing one  driver  in  charge  of  the  two  vehicles. 

"  For  you  had  best  get  down,"  said  Dofla  Felipa  to 
Ti'o  Patas,  "  and  help  me  up  the  hill." 

Then  they  went  slowly  climbing  up  the  road  towards 
the  College,  first  Jose"  Ramos  with  Dona  Maria  on  his 
left  arm  and  Lola  on  his  right,  then  Don  Luis  with 
Concha,  then  Juan  with  Carna,  and  lastly  Dofia  Felipa, 
panting  very  hard  and  leaning  harder  still  on  the  arm 
of  the  kindling  Ti'o  Patas. 

Jos^ Ramos:  "Just  on  the  right  of  the  College,  that's 
where  we  want  to  stand !  You  can  see  the  whole  vega 
of  Santa  Fe,  and  the  town  and  the  island.  Look ! 
There  goes  another  rocket !  " 

Dona  Maria:  "Oh— h— h!     Look!" 

Lola:  "Yes,  mamma,  and  look  behind  you  at  the 
269 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

island ;  some  one   has   lighted   a   great  bonfire  in  the 
middle.     It  looks  like  a  town  afire ! " 

Don  Luis :  "  Within  the  year,  said  I  ?  Why,  within  a 
month  more  likely,  with  such  a  face  as  yours." 

Concha :  "  I  make  myself  no  illusions,  and  I  am  not 
fond  of  coarse  flattery.  I  am  neither  so  fair  as  to  kill 
nor  so  ugly  as  to  fright  a  man." 

Don  Luis :  "  Nay,  but  —  " 

Concha:  "What  is  that  light  upon  the  road  yonder 
by  the  cross  ?  What  are  they  doing  ?  " 

Don  Luis :  "  Two  or  three  soldiers  squatting  along 
the  roadside  by  the  light  of  a  candle.  Now  you  can 
see  what  they  are  doing,  playing  cards." 

Concha :  "  And  the  candle  in  a  bayonet !  How 
strange ! " 

Don  Luis :  "Still,  that  is  not  what  I  was  talking 
about.  You  keep  flying  away  from  the  subject.  Now 
look  here,  to  put  it  plainly  —  " 

Concha :  " }  Seflor  mfo !  And  do  you  think  that  I 
have  not  seen  which  fire  you  were  fanning?  And 
pray  would  you  have  me  lend  myself  to  such  clumsy 
antics  ?  Don't  ask  me  to  help  you  cook  your  stew  or 
perhaps  I  may  upset  the  pipkin  ! " 

Don  Luis:  "You  are  very  cutting.  And  yet  you 
were  very  kind." 

Concha :  "  j  Claro  !  Suppose  there  is  a  girl  whose 
every  moment  is  fettered  by  poverty.  Her  clothes  are 
last  year's  clothes  turned  inside  out.  Her  food,  garban- 
zos,  and  bread  as  hard  as  the  feet  of  St.  Peter.  There 
comes  a  coxcomb  riding  upon  a  horse  and  dressed  in 
scarlet  and  gold,  not  too  marvellous  a  being,  but  still 
with  money  in  his  pocket  to  buy  himself  a  wife.  Why, 
Seflor,  the  girl  is  only  human  if  she  forgets  the  old 
proverb  and  —  " 

270 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Don  Luis :  "  What  proverb  ?  " 

ConcJia  :  "  '  Never  marry  a  clown  for  want  of  a  gown.' 
Why,  the  girl  is  only  human  if  she  overcomes  her 
scruples,  pretends  to  fall  in  love,  and  — " 

Don  Luis :  "  Pray  do  you  mean  that  all  that  applies 
to  you  and  me  ?  " 

Concha :  "  If  the  cap  fits  —  !  " 

Juan :  "  You  must  make  fun  of  it  if  you  choose,  but 
it  is  the  truth.  And  you  —  I  suppose  you  never  thought 
of  me  again  ?  " 

Carna :  "  Oh —  yes !    I  do  not  so  easily  forget  people." 

Juan  :  "  I  remember  every  word  you  said  to  me,  and 
I  to  you.  '  Hope,'  you  told  me, '  was  like  laurels,  which 
bear  no  fruit  whatever,  but  are  always  green  ! ' ' 

Carna:  "  No,  that  surely  was  not  what  I  said  !  " 

Juan :  "  Aye  !  That  you  did  !  And  I  turned  it 
over  and  over  in  my  mind.  All  night  I  sat  up  thinking 
of  it  —  " 

Carna :  "  What  laurels  ?  A  powerful  opiate !  And 
to  keep  a  man  awake  withal  — " 

Juan:  "  —  and,  'Alas!'  thought  I,  'this  lady  is 
surely  very  pitiless.  She  would  let  me  hope  for  ever 
without  reward.  At  least,'  thought  I,  'she  might  have 
given  me  a  plain  answer ! '  ' 

Carna  :  "  And  you  a  scholar  !  " 

Juan :  "  Why  so  ?  " 

Carna :  "  j  Senor  mfo  !  can  logic  and  philosophy  give 
a  man  no  better  reasoning  than  that  ?  " 

Juan :  "  Ah,  there  is  no  schooling,  Sefiora,  to  teach 
one  divination  of  a  woman's  mind." 

Carna:  " 'Tis  just  such  men  as  you  that  go  snaring 
and  never  catch  a  bird  !  You  would  stand  in  the  middle 
of  a  field  with  bag  wide  open  crying,  '  Come,  fly  in,  my 
little  dove ! '  " 

271 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Juan :  "  Ah,  then  there  was  meaning  in  what  you  said  ? 
Oh,  pray  do  not  hide  your  merriment !  " 

Cama :  "  I  cannot  remember,  Seftor.  Tell  me,  did  I 
sigh  when  I  said  '  laurels '  ? " 

Juan :  "  No ;  but  you  looked  most  wonderfully  beau- 
tiful." 

Carna:  "Oh  look!  look!  Listen,  it  is  just  going  to 
burst.  Oh,  what  a  bang !  Look  at  the  sparks  —  like  a 
besom  all  down  the  sky !  It  reminds  me  of  the  flaming 
fiery  sword  at  the  gates  of  Paradise  in  our  picture  of 
Adam  and  Eve." 

Juan :  "  Rockets,  I  believe,  belong  to  the  other  place  ! 
Sefiora,  I  have  something  to  tell  you,  if  I  dared,  yet  I 
fear  your  answer  —  " 

Carna:  "  Well,  then,  do  not  tell  me !  Hark !  Is  not 
that  Dofta  Felipa  calling  to  us  ?  Let  us  wait  a  moment." 

Tio  Patas  (to  himself) :  "  I  wonder  if  the  old  porpoise 
expects  me  to  pull  her  up  to  yonder  summit  in  this  fash- 
ion, and  my  arm  nearly  dragged  out  of  its  socket !  This 
is  the  occupation  of  a  mule!"  (To  Dofla  Felipa):  "I 
pray  you,  Sefiora,  walk  on  this  side  of  the  road,  it  is 
much  smoother  for  your  feet.  Would  you  like  to  change 
arms  ?  I  fear  that  your  right  arm  must  be  growing  tired  ? " 

Dona  Felipa  (puffing  very  hard) :  "  Ouf !  —  Pouf !  — 
Man,  you  —  have  —  no  strength  —  in  you.     I  —  would 
rather  —  keep  —  to  this — side.      I  can  —  hold  —  much 
better." 

770  Patas  (to  himself) :  "  Yes  !  Hold  like  a  limpet ! 
I  wouldn't  like  to  be  shipwrecked  with  you !  Santa 
Mar/a  del  Carmen,  if  penance  counts  for  aught  I 
should—" 

Dona  Felipa:  "What  is  it — that  you  keep  —  mutter- 
ing about?  I  believe  —  you  are  unwilling!" 

Tio  Patas:  " '  Unwilling,'  Sefiora,  If     I  caught  sight 
272 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

of  the  stone  cross  yonder,  as  we  rounded  the  corner,  and 

it  is  my  custom  to  murmur  an  '  Ave  Maria '  when  I  pass. 

Will  you  rest  beside  the  cross  awhile  ?  " 

Dona  Felipa :  "  No.     The  others  —  have  gone  past  it." 
Tio  Patas  (to  himself) :  "  And  I  wish^0«  were  beneath 

it."     (To  Dofla  Felipa):    "  Seflora,  I   fear  that  I  am 

walking  too  fast  for  you  ? " 

Dona   Felipa:    "Not    at    all  —  not    fast  —  enough! 

Look,     we     are  —  falling    behind.      Carna !       Carna ! 

Carna — a. —  /" 

When  they  reached  the  open  space  beside  the  College 
and  turned  around,  this  is  what  they  saw.  In  the  first 
place  the  moon  over  everything  smiling  at  the  revels. 
On  the  far  right  the  Guadalote,  whence  they  had  come, 
with  half  a  dozen  bonfires  on  either  bank.  On  the  far 
left,  Santa  Fe,  whose  houses  concealed  the  fires  down 
in  the  streets,  but  whose  higher  walls  and  balconies  were 
suffused  with  a  ruddy  glow.  Especially  was  this  the 
case  with  the  Cathedral.  The  lower  square  base  of  the 
tower  seemed  to  be  incandescent  with  a  colour  of  cherry 
red,  whilst  the  cupola  reflected  the  ethereal  moonlight 
and  wore  a  bluish  tint.  From  various  points  in  the 
city  dense  columns  of  smoke  flew  upwards  mingled  with 
sparks,  and  indeed  a  stranger  might  have  thought  that 
the  Goths  and  Visigoths  were  sacking  it,  for  it  looked 
like  a  town  on  fire. 

Along  the  king's  highway  were  bonfires  at  intervals, 
several  in  Cinco  Caminos,  one  at  the  Fonda  del  Trini, 
two  or  three  on  the  beach,  and  a  mighty  blaze  in  the 
middle  of  the  island  of  Lagarto. 

From  the  Plaza  of  Santa  Fe  a  rocket  flew  up  and 

burst  into  a  flame  of  vivid  green  ;  from  the  island  of 

Lagarto   rose   up   another   and   scattered  a  shower  of 

orange-coloured   sparks;    from    the    village    of    Cinco 

T  273 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Caminos  there  fled  a  third,  plunged  heavenward  with 
the  wildest  expectations  and  fell  to  the  ground  abor- 
tive. It  was  sped  by  the  village  schoolmaster  and  had 
cost  him  a  long  day's  pay.  Cinco  Caminos,  however, 
was  not  without  its  display.  A  series  of  most  wonder- 
ful fiery  circles  were  noted  by  those  upon  the  hill. 
They  were  made  by  a  lump  of  wood  fastened  to  a  piece 
of  wire,  to  the  wire  was  attached  a  string,  and  the  wood 
being  steeped  in  tar  and  set  on  fire  was  set  whirling  by 
a  youngster  standing  upon  some  eminence. 

Some  chose  a  barrel,  but  this  limited  the  circle  to  a 
radius  of  six  or  seven  feet.  Others  betook  themselves 
to  the  balconies  and  with  more  than  one  advantage. 
For  instance,  when  blazing  tar  fell  down  the  backs  of 
the  spectators  the  offender  was  inaccessible. 

From  the  far  distance  rose  a  faint  clicking  of  cas- 
tanets. This  came  from  the  Fonda  del  Trini,  at  their 
feet,  where  the  dance  was  growing  faster  and  the  fun 
more  furious. 

They  had  been  standing  some  little  time  and  gazing 
at  the  panorama  beneath  them  when  a  Jesuit  novice 
came  towards  them  from  the  gate  of  the  College.  "  The 
Father  Rector  sent  his  compliments,  •and  having  recog- 
nized them,  wished  to  know  whether  they  would  honour 
him  by  resting  awhile  in  the  orchard  ? " 

Nothing  loth,  they  followed  the  novice  back  through 
the  open  gate.  In  the  porch  stood  Padre  Ignacio  and 
Padre  Martinez. 

Carna  introduced  those  of  her  companions  who  were 
unknown  to  the  fathers. 

"  We  belong  to  the  Bishop's  flock,"  said  Dofta  Maria 
Lopez,  smiling. 

"  If  covetousness  availed  me,"  replied  Padre  Ignacio, 
with  a  bow,  "  I  fear  that  the  Bishop's  flock  would  lose 
three  lambs  to-night." 

274 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  How  very  civil  are  these  Jesuits ! "  thought  Dona 
Maria,  and  replied,  with  a  sigh,  "  that  the  Bishop  would 
never  miss  an  old  ewe  like  herself,  for  people  were 
valued  in  the  Cathedral  for  what  they  gave  away,  and 
four  reals  a  month  brought  mighty  little  respect,  God 
knew !  " 

"Here,"  said  Carna  simply,  "one  is  not  valued  for 
one's  money,  but  for  oneself." 

The  Father  Rector,  glancing  at  her,  admired  her 
artlessness  and  esprit  de  corps,  but  felt  a  twinge  of 
conscience,  for  he  knew  the  inner  workings  of  the 
Company. 

With  that  they  passed  through  the  College  into  the 
orchard  behind,  and  mounting  the  terraces  one  by  one 
found  several  chairs  at  the  highest  point  on  the  opposite 
corner  to  the  tank,  and  here  they  sat  down  at  Padre 
Ignacio's  invitation  and  found  that  the  view  was  almost 
better  than  before.  Cinco  Caminos  was  blotted  out  by 
the  trees  and  College,  but  the  great  plain  on  their  right 
was  faintly  visible  in  the  moonshine,  and  here  and  there 
it  was  speckled  by  a  glittering  pin-point  of  fire  wher- 
ever there  was  a  cottage  or  a  finca  among  the  sugar  canes. 

Whilst  they  sat  talking,  two  lay  brothers  brought 
some  small  tables  from  the  College,  and  on  each  table 
set  a  lighted  lamp,  beside  it  a  flask  of  wine,  a  basket  of 
pastry,  some  sweetmeats,  and  some  fruit. 

Scarcely  a  breath  of  air  was  stirring. 

"  I  am  surprised  to  find  the  College  awake,"  said 
Dofia  Maria,  fanning  herself  with  a  great  display  of  the 
newly  purchased  fan. 

"  The  College  is  supposed  to  be  asleep,"  replied  the 
Father  Rector.  "  But,  we  are  only  weak  mortals,  Senora, 
and  this  display  has  tempted  our  curiosity.  Thus  it 
came  to  pass  that,  standing  quietly  in  my  balcony  and 
hoping  that  Padre  Martinez  would  reckon  me  asleep, 

275 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Padre  Martinez  was  in  his  balcony  alongside  practising 
the  same  deceit.  Each  looked  towards  the  other  at  the 
same  moment,  and  our  guilt  being  thus  disclosed,  we 
met  each  other  in  the  corridor  and  agreed  to  sit  at  one 
of  the  great  windows  over  the  porch,  and  keep  each 
other  company  through  the  still  watches  of  the  night ! 
Alas  !  We  were  not  the  first  arrivals,  by  any  means ! 
Half  the  College  was  wide  awake  and  whispering  at  the 
window  in  front  of  us." 

"  And  the  other  half  ? " 

"  At  the  other  window,  Sefiora." 

A  young  priest  helped  the  ladies  to  Malaga  wine  and 
sweetmeats. 

Padre  Martinez  came  to  sit  beside  Dona  Felipa.  The 
eyes  of  the  Catalan  priest  seemed  always  to  focus  them- 
selves upon  the  individual  who  was  attracting  least  at- 
tention. When  Carna  spoke  he  was  looking  at  Juan, 
who  stood  motionless  behind  her  chair;  when  Juan 
spoke  he  had  already  finished  with  him  and  was  scruti- 
nizing the  captain  of  Civil  Guards.  When  the  captain 
spoke,  his  gaze  had  shifted  to  Carna,  and  so  on  round 
the  circle.  When  a  pause  occurred  his  eyes  were  rest- 
less in  their  sockets,  he  looked  here  and  there  and  every- 
where. Concha  dropped  her  fan  and  Jos6  picked  it  up 
for  her ;  noted  !  Carna  gave  her  empty  glass  not  to 
her  cousin  but  to  Juan ;  remembered !  Lola  spoke  to 
Jos6  over  her  shoulder,  and  Jos6  shrugged  his  shoulders 
and  smiled  ;  entered  and  indexed ! 

"The  good  captain  must  be  persistently  discour- 
aged," he  was  saying  in  an  undertone  to  Dona  Felipa, 
his  eyes  on  Carna's  face. 

"  But  the  other  you  think  —  ?  " 

"  Yes,  the  other,  the  Padre  Rector  seems  to  think 
might  be  a  desirable  match.  But  with  incessant  watch- 
ing, mind,  incessant  watching.  How  does  she  incline  ?  " 

276 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  Have  you  not  already  noticed  ? " 

"My  dear  lady,  when  I  ask  you  a  question  will  you 
honour  me  with  a  reply  ? " 

"  Pardon  me.  I  meant  to  imply  that  it  was  so  ap- 
parent. She  is  on  the  eve  of  falling  in  love  beyond 
redemption.  If  I  might  suggest — " 

"  By  all  means  !     We  like  intelligent  suggestions." 

"  I  would  suggest  that  you  should  decide  now  and 
finally.  Do  you  know  that  before  a  week  has  passed 
I  believe  it  would  be  beyond  all  human  power 
to—" 

"  Pshaw !  That  is  not  a  proper  way  to  talk,  my  dear 
Dona  Felipa.  That  is  not  our  watchword.  Betwixt  the 
power  of  Heaven  and  the  power  of  Man  there  is  an 
intermediate  power.  It  is  that  of  the  Jesuit.  You  must 
be  prepared  to  make  your  ward  in  love  with  twenty  men 
in  twenty  days  if  so  it  suits  us." 

"  That  is  beyond  the  power  of  Heaven  and  Earth  !  " 

The  priest  bent  a  sudden  frown  upon  her,  then 
quickly  changed  his  expression  before  any  one  could 
note  it.  Dona  Felipa  held  out  her  hands  and  cast 
down  her  eyes  with  a  sigh  which  was  intended  to  re- 
proach him  for  his  shallow  understanding  of  women. 

Padre  Martinez,  however,  knew  quite  as  well  as 
Dona  Felipa  how  curious  a  thing  to  control  was  a 
woman's  heart.  His  words  were  a  mere  formula  of 
discipline,  the  refusal  to  admit  impossibilities  where 
the  cause  of  the  Company  was  at  stake. 

At  this  moment  there  was  some  little  stir.  Lola 
had  been  listening  to  the  distant  sound  of  the  guitar 
down  on  the  highway. 

"  Mamma,"  she  said  presently  in  an  undertone, 
"  this  is  like  being  in  church,  we  may  not  sing  or 
clap  our  hands,  and  it  is  such  a  lovely  night." 

Padre  Ignacio  caught  one  or  two  words  of  this 
277 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

lament,  and  beckoning  to  the  novice  he  whispered 
something  in  his  ear. 

The  young  priest,  when  he  came  back,  placed  a 
guitar  in  Lola's  lap. 

This  was  the  cause  of  much  merriment,  for  Lola 
was  compelled  to  satisfy  the  expectant  company,  and 
nobody  would  relieve  her  of  the  guitar. 

At  length  she  planned  a  compromise. 

"  If  you  will  sing,  Carna,"  said  she,  "  I  will  play." 

Whether  it  was  that  Carna  was  feeling  very  happy 
and  very  sentimental,  whether  the  young  girl  was  glad 
to  display  her  charming  voice,  or  that  Juan  had  begged 
her  in  an  undertone  to  sing,  I  cannot  tell,  but  forthwith 
she  bade  Lola  accompany  her  in  the  following  verses 
from  a  romance  by  Don  Joaqum  Perez,  the  poet  of  Santa 
Fe,  founded  on  an  old  legend.  There  were  ten  verses 
in  all,  but  Carna  chose  the  more  important  ones,  trust- 
ing to  her  audience's  memory  for  the  words  between. 

"  It  was  a  Sultan's  daughter, 
His  fav'rite  daughter  dear, 
Must  wed  an  Arab  lover 
Before  the  coming  year. 
She  begged  the  Sultan's  favour 
The  city  gates  to  leave 
And  view  the  Christian  fires 
On  John-the-Baptist  Eve. 

***** 
"  Uprose  a  mighty  clamour, 
The  Sultan  sat  at  meat, 
'  Now  rouse  thee,  gallant  Sultan, 
Now  rouse  thee,  I  entreat, 
Thy  daughter  for  a  Christian 
Doth  all  of  us  disdain, 
And  side  by  side  their  horses 
Are  sped  across  the  plain.' 

***** 

"The  fury  of  the  Sultan 
Descended  on  the  board  : 
278 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

'  Get  twenty  men  and  horses 

Before  me  to  the  ford. 

If  one  of  you  behind  me 

Arrive  but  by  a  hair, 

His  head  beside  the  Spaniard's 

Shall  make  a  bloody  pair.' 
*  *  *  *  * 
"  The  steeds  can  fare  no  farther, 

So  deadly  is  the  chase, 

The  knight  his  ladye  raises 

And  fondly  does  embrace. 

Behind  are  twenty  warriors, 

Before  them  an  abyss  : 

'  Dear  ladye,  cover  up  thine  eyes 

And  speed  us  with  a  kiss.' 
*  *  *  *  * 
"  Weep  not,  thou  gallant  Sultan  ! 

Weep  not  thy  daughter  dear  ! 

Her  soul  it  is  with  Mary, 

Thy  woe  she  cannot  hear. 

Tho'  yonder  fiery  limits 

So  closely  seemed  at  hand, 

The  ranks  of  God  were  nearer 

Than  the  ranks  of  Ferdinand." 

The  last  verse  Carna  sang  very  slowly,  and  the 
guitarist,  either  by  experience  or  by  instinct,  sank  the 
key  three  semitones  in  the  prelude.  Nobody  appeared 
to  care  for  speaking  when  Carna  had  finished,  her  voice 
had  been  so  pure  and  her  fervour  so  intense.  None 
could  doubt  that  the  young  girl  in  her  imagination 
was  passing  through  the  tragedy  she  sang  about ;  and 
when  she  came  to 

"  Her  soul  it  is  with  Mary, 
Thy  woe  she  cannot  hear," 

her  voice  had  fallen  to  a  slow  and  measured  dirge  in 
rich  contralto,  and  her  eyes  were  wet  with  tears.  All 
of  those  present  regarded  Carna's  emotion  in  the  light 
most  proper  to  their  instincts. 

279 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Thus  Don  Luis  trembled  with  passionate  love.  Juan 
was  deeply  moved  and  could  not  take  his  eyes  off  her. 
Lola  and  Concha  sighed  for  sympathy,  and  Padre 
Martinez  thought  to  himself  how  useful  this  emotion 
might  become  if  turned  to  good  account. 

The  young  novice  with  folded  arms  was  watching 
the  lovely  face  from  beneath  his  lashes ;  he  had  found 
an  ideal  for  his  Madonna. 

The  Father  Rector  looked  towards  him,  smiled,  re- 
membered, and  understood. 

I  find  it  difficult  to  describe  the  influence  which 
Carna's  personality  had  exerted,  yet  her  voice  and  her 
emotion  seemed  to  have  supplied  the  one  factor  that 
was  wanting  on  that  lovely  summer's  night  to  make  it 
paradise. 

Above  them  a  blue  dome  set  with  myriads  of  stars 
that  twinkled  like  the  fires  down  yonder  in  the  vega, 
around  them  the  blossom  of  fruit  trees  in  first  or  second 
bloom;  permeating  all,  the  scent  of  orange  blossoms, 
beneath  them  the  blazing  city  and  the  deep  blue  sea,  in 
front  of  them  the  lamplight  reflected  from  the  leaves 
and  flowers.  This  silent  panorama  needed  but  one 
touch  to  endow  it  with  a  soul,  and  that  touch  had  been 
given  it  by  Carna,  who  infused  her  subtle  charm  of 
femininity  into  the  very  air,  an  essence  above  all  others 
ethereal  and  pure,  felt  by  all  present  though  little  com- 
prehended. 

After  a  brief  interval  Dofia  Maria  addressed  the 
Father  Rector  and  wondered  that  the  Jesuits  should 
keep  guitars. 

"  Not  only  have  we  guitars,"  said  Padre  Ignacio, 
laughing,  "  but  we  have  those  who  play  guitars,  upon 
occasion." 

"  Upon  what  occasion,  for  example  ?  "  asked  Dofia 
Mar  fa. 

280 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  Such  an  occasion  as  this,"  returned  the  Rector, 
amused  at  her  curiosity  and  wondering  if  she  thought 
the  machinery  of  the  Company  comprised,  amongst 
other  items,  a  guitar.  Perhaps  it  did ! 

Padre  Ignacio  then  turned  to  the  novice. 

"  Francisco,  Andres,  and  Tomas,  are  they  awake  ? " 

"  They  are  awake,  Father." 

"  Now  comes  their  punishment !  Bid  them  bring 
their  instruments  and  play  these  ladies  a  snatch  or 
two  of  music  suited  to  the  occasion." 

In  a  very  little  time  there  came  forward  four  novices, 
with  a  violoncello,  a  mandolin,  and  two  guitars.  They 
took  up  their  stand  beneath  a  lemon  tree  and  played 
old-fashioned  dances,  gavottes,  and  pastorales,  most  of 
their  music  being,  as  was  natural,  French  or  Belgian, 
survival  of  their  recent  exile. 

Padre  Martinez  waited  upon  the  ladies  with  a  basket 
of  sweetmeats  in  one  hand  and  a  flask  of  wine  in  the 
other. 

Juan,  taking  advantage  of  the  music,  leant  over 
Carna's  chair  and  commenced  to  talk  with  her. 

Don  Luis  watched  him  angrily  for  a  while,  then  saun- 
tered away  towards  the  tank,  looking  upon  the  ground. 

Lola  looked  at  Concha,  who  made  a  face  and  shrugged 
her  shoulders.  Jose  Ramos  then  came  to  sit  between 
the  girls,  and  soon  they  were  chatting  merrily  and  gig- 
gling behind  their  fans. 

Said  Juan  to  Carna  — 

"  By  some  strange  power  or  other  you  have  made  me 
very  sad  and  very  happy." 

"As  who  should  say  'you  have  told  me  many  lies 
that  are  the  truth ' !  " 

"  I  mean  your  voice  quite  carried  me  away,  it  is  so 
sympathetic.  When  the  lovers  cast  themselves  over  the 
cliff  I  felt  as  though  I  had  taken  the  leap  myself." 

281 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  j  Dios  mfo  !     What  one  may  do  in  imagination  !  " 

"  Seflora,  under  the  like  conditions,  I  could  do  the 
same." 

"  For  love  of  a  woman  ?  " 

"  For  love  of  a  woman." 

"  The  French  women  are  very  attractive,  so  they  say. 
What  is  it  that  they  are  playing  ?  " 

"  French  music." 

"  Ah  !     I  suppose  you  swear  by  anything  French  ?  " 

"  I  ?  I  have  come  back  before  my  time.  Santa  Fe 
seemed  to  beckon  me." 

"  And  what  was  the  particular  attraction  in  Santa  Fe?" 

"A  very  fair  sweet  lady." 

"  Ah  !  That  is  a  Frenchman  all  over !  Racing  half- 
way across  Europe  in  chase  of  petticoats !  Were  I  a 
man  I  would  despise  such  things.  But,  alas!  I  am 
sorry  for  you." 

"  Why  so  ?  " 

"  But  yet  I  am  still  more  sorry  for  this  '  very  fair 
sweet  lady.'  " 

"  Ah,  it  is  well  she  has  your  sympathy,  Seflora." 

"  And  I  will  tell  you  why.  You  fell  in  love  —  God 
save  us !  —  with  this  sweet  lady,  in  less  time,  and  with 
less  provocation,  than —  I  pray  you  tell  me  first,  how 
long  you  took  to  fall  in  love  with  her?" 

"Just  in  the  little  moment,  Seflora,  that  she  swept 
her  eyes  towards  me  and  swept  them  back  again. 
Nay,  I  —  " 

"  Enough !  Here  is  a  man,  goes  into  a  church  (I 
think  you  told  me  'twas  in  a  church  ?),  sees  a  very  pass- 
able, mop-headed  sort  of  woman  sitting  upon  a  seat 
with  her  fingers  in  her  eyes.  She  opens  one  eye  and 
looks  at  him  and  j  zas !  his  heart  turns  a  somersault,  and 
they  carry  him  out  in  a  swoon.  Tell  me  now,  Senor, 
would  such  a  lover  be  faithful  to  his  mistress  the  wan- 

282 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

ing  of  a  moon  ?     Would  not  this  same  accident  occur  to 
him  again  ?  " 

"  Such  men  are  unwavering  in  their  fidelity." 

"  Pooh !  Not  a  single  man  walks  upon  God's  earth 
but  his  mind  is  like  a  weather-cock,  a  by-word  of  change- 
ability. And  thus  it  is  that  women's  hearts  are  broken 
with  their  wickedness." 

"  Awhile  ago  you  spoke  in  jest,  but  now,  unless  you 
mock  me  —  " 

"  Nay,  I  speak  no  fables.  I  know  what  I  am  saying, 
Seflor,  and  it  is  the  bitter  truth.  The  faithlessness  of 
men  is  known  in  every  house ;  it  is  a  mere  home  truth." 

"  Well,  then, '  home  truths '  are  scandalous.  For  there 
stands  one  before  you  whose  love  is  not  of  yesterday, 
and  daily,  hourly,  that  love  is  growing  stronger,  like 
some  swift  river  as  it  bears  towards  the  sea." 

"  A  pretty  figure  of  speech  !    It  stands  commended !  " 

"  Ah,  then  you  gibe  at  me  ? " 

"  I  wish  that  this  '  fair  sweet  lady '  knew  what  to  be- 
lieve of  you  !  " 

"  Believe  ?  Let  her  believe  that  words  cannot  paint 
my  love.  Let  her  believe  that  a  rebuff  would  leave  this 
fair  earth  a  desert,  yonder  bright  sky  a  blank,  the  tomb 
my  paradise.  Let  her  believe  that  sun,  moon,  and  stars, 
earth's  fruits,  its  flowers  and  perfumes,  display  them- 
selves before  my  exalted  senses  in  sweet  melody  whilst 
she  is  near.  Let  her  believe  no  joy  can  be  a  joy  unless 
it  speaks  of  her  ;  no  nightingale  can  sing  except  of  her ; 
no  Angelus  that  sounds  but  prays  for  her ;  no  breeze  of 
Heaven  that  blows  but  whispers  to  me  her  name." 

"  Ah,  indeed  you  must  not  speak  thus  unless  —  " 

"Unless,  dear  lady—  ?" 

"  Leave  me,  Seflor  !  For  God's  sake  leave  me  whilst 
I  remember  that  I  scarcely  know  you — ,  hardly  have 
spoken  with  you  before  —  " 

283 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

"That  will  I  not  until  — " 

"  Ah,  but  this  is  cruel  of  you !  Some  sudden  faint- 
ness  has  come  upon  me.  You  must  not  think  I  am 
weeping,  for  I  am  not,  and  I  would  not  for  worlds  that 
any  one  should  see  me  so.  I  pray  you  walk  away  a 
pace  or  two,  for  it  is  nothing." 

"  Aye !  If  you  will  walk  with  me.  To  yonder  lemon 
tree  and  back." 

"  Has  any  one  noticed  me  ? " 

"  Not  a  soul !     Tell  me,  must  I  go  answerless  ?  " 

"  No  !  You  shall  have  your  answer,  sir,  and  it  is 
thus  :  that  this  same  lady  of  whom  you  spoke,  being 
very  foolish,  discovered  only  an  hour  ago  by  the  clock 
that  she  loved  also.  Not  until  this  moment  did  she 
realize  how  miserable  was  her  plight,  and  that  if  the 
words  you  spoke  were  spoken  in  lightness,  no  sea  in  all 
the  world  too  deep  for  her  to  pillow  her  head  upon  its 
sandy  base.  And  now,  sir,  that  you  have  made  me  thus 
confess,  and  whilst  we  stand  beneath  this  dark  lemon 
tree,  look,  here  is  my  mother's  rosary,  with  a  cross  of 
ebony  that  she  and  I  have  kissed  full  many  a  time, 
and  you  shall  swear ;  stay  — ,  why  do  you  flinch  and 
start  ? " 

"  Did  I  start  ?  Nay,  give  me  the  cross !  As  you 
love  me,  come,  give  me  the  cross,  dear  mistress,  and  let 
me  swear !  " 

"Ah!  How  strange!  You  seemed  to  flinch  and 
tremble  when  you  saw  the  cross !  Well  then,  you 
shall  swear  to  me  —  no  !  Come  a  little  farther  towards 
the  chapel.  Look,  here  is  the  altar  window  and  some 
one  inside  at  prayers,  for  there  is  a  light  of  candles  just 
showing  through  the  window  of  Calvary." 

"  Give  me  the  rosary  whilst  I  kneel  here  below  the 
window." 

"  Take  it !  Swear  what  you  choose.  I  would  not  let 
284 


THE   PAGAN    AT   THE   SHRINE 

it  be  said  that  I  conjured  you.  Yet  whatever  it  be  that 
you  swear,  yonder  is  your  Judge  and  Witness  !  Do  you 
hope  and  believe  in  Him  ? " 

"  Aye  !     To-night  I—  " 

"  '  To-night '  ?  " 

"  You  misunderstand  me.     Yes,  I  hope  and  believe." 

"  Then  swear  !  " 

"  I  swear  that  my  heart's  service  belongs  to  you, 
that  I  adore  and  most  passionately  love  you  and  shall 
love  no  other.  Be  my  fate  measured  by  my  faithfulness 
and  bright  be  my  reward  as  those  stars  in  heaven  if 
I  respect  my  vow.  If  not,  let  flames  more  torturing, 
agonies  more  horrible,  and  —  " 

"  No  !  no  !  Though  you  flouted  me,  it  were  a  shame 
you  should  be  burned.  I  would  not  have  it  so.  Now 
kiss  the  cross." 

"  I  kiss  and  swear." 

"  Let  us  be  strolling  back.  The  music  has  ceased, 
and  they  are  calling  to  us." 

******** 

When  Don  Luis  strolled  away  from  the  musicians  he 
found  Ti'o  Patas  seated  upon  the  margin  of  that  great 
concrete  tank  which,  placed  at  the  topmost  corner  of 
the  sloping  orchard,  provided  a  store  of  water  for  the 
trees.  A  spring  trickled  in  at  one  corner,  and  there  was 
a  sluggish  stir  at  the  opposite  corner  where  water  ran 
out  to  waste.  Ti'o  Patas  was  smoking  a  lonely  ciga- 
rette and  looking  at  the  moon. 

For  his  own  part  the  captain  would  not  have  said  a 
word.  He  stood  there  moodily  gazing  upon  the  dying 
ripples,  where  a  frog  had  plunged  beneath  the  water  on 
his  approach,  and  watching  the  gnats  that  sported  above 
the  surface. 

The  twinkling  eyes  of  Tfo  Patas  came  stealthily 
down  from  the  firmament  and  looked  along  his  nose 

285 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

towards  the  Guardsman,  then  climbed  up  again,  appar- 
ently lost  in  contemplation  of  the  Milky  Way. 

The  vestige  of  a  smile  had  dawned  upon  his  features, 
but  an  iron-gray  stubble  and  a  cloud  of  circling  smoke 
tended  to  hide  this  symptom  from  the  captain  and  the 
frogs. 

Presently  he  spoke. 

"  Things  march  badly,  Don  Luis !  " 

"  What  things,  my  friend  ?  " 

"  j  Vaya  !  The  young  lady  —  does  not  seem  to  care 
for  us ! " 

When  the  captain  understood  that  Ti'o  Patas  was 
poking  his  long  nose  into  matters  so  very  delicate  and 
nice,  he  was  at  first  undecided  whether  to  take  him  by 
the  collar  and  duck  him  in  the  tank  or  to  treat  him  with 
withering  contempt. 

For  some  few  moments  he  stood  glowering  upon  the 
unconscious  philosopher,  who  once  more  was  lost  in 
contemplation  of  the  stars. 

Eventually  a  different  impulse  took  hold  of  Don  Luis, 
and  he  decided  upon  another  course  of  action. 

He  sat  beside  the  old  man,  and  thus  addressed  him  : — 

"  My  friend,  you  have  spoken  truly.  Things  march 
badly.  Yet  one  never  knows  what  a  day  may  bring 
forth,  and  where  there  is  a  will  there  is  frequently  a 
way.  Now,  it  has  occurred  to  me  that  you,  being  a  sage 
and  cunning  sort  of  man,  being  a  man  moreover  who 
can  keep  a  secret,  which  I  suppose  you  can  ?  —  " 

"  Inviolate  as  the  honour  of  my  mother." 

"  And,  no  doubt,  she  was  very  honest.  You,  I  say, 
being  a  man  who  can  keep  a  secret,  might  help  me  in 
many  ways." 

"  Don  Luis,  it  is  common  knowledge  that  the  Jesuits 
owe  their  position  in  Santa  Fe  in  no  small  measure  to 
myself.  They  do  not  admit  it.  No !  Is  it  likely  that 

286 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

they  would  ?  And  if  I,  though  apparently  so  humble, 
have  so  heavily  contributed  to  this  great  result,  how 
much  more  might  I  effect  in  an  affair  of  comparative 
simplicity,  a  mere  —  Pshaw  !  the  midsummer  dream  of 
a  child  that  knows  not  her  own  mind !  Properly  at- 
tacked, Don  Luis,  the  problem  is  not  so  very  difficult. 
After  all,  what  is  it  ?  In  a  nutshell,  to  turn  the  silly 
fancy  of  a  girl  from  yonder  Jackanapes  and  focus  it 
upon  yourself.  Were  you  ill-favoured,  cross-eyed,  or 
bandy-legged,  the  task  might  be  of  dubious  accomplish- 
ment ;  but  treating,  as  we  treat,  of  a  gallant  captain,  a 
strapping,  handsome,  dashing,  straight-limbed  —  " 

Don  Luis  made  a  gesture  of  annoyance. 

The  old  man  who  had  bent  down  leering  at  him,  and 
was  sweeping  the  stump  of  his  cigarette  in  horizontal 
circles  through  the  air  at  the  exact  rate  of  one  revolu- 
tion per  encomium,  paused  in  his  speech,  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  laughed,  and  sucked  at  his  cigarette. 

"  Let  us  talk  sense,"  said  Don  Luis,  bringing  the  flat 
of  his  hand  down  smartly  upon  the  coping  and  causing 
a  dozen  splashes  from  a  dozen  timid  frogs.  "  And  let 
us  talk  like  men  of  business.  These  are  the  conditions : 
in  the  first  place,  hold  your  tongue ;  in  the  second, 
study  how  you  may  trip  yonder  moon-gazer  by  the 
heels  if  it  be  possible ;  in  the  third,  give  me  quick  in- 
formation of  everything  worth  knowing.  Above  all 
things,  refrain  from  sounding  my  praises  in  her  ear. 
Believe  me,  your  manner  is  anything  but  charming. 
Last,  but  not  least,  payment  by  results." 

"  I  accept  the  conditions,  Don  Luis,  your  hand  upon 
it." 

The  Guardsman  hesitated,  grew  hot  with  shame, 
tossed  him  a  twenty-real  piece,  and,  touching  his  grimy 
hand  with  a  very  bad  grace,  got  up  and  walked  away. 

Ti'o  Patas  watched  him  rejoin  the  group  and  showed 

287 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

every  yellow  tooth  in'  his  head,  so  winsome  was  his 
smile.  Then,  turning  towards  the  frogs,  three  of  whom 
appeared  to  regard  him  fixedly  from  the  opposite  mar- 
gin— 

"  Seftores,"  said  he,  showing  them  the  coin  which 
glistened  in  the  moonlight,  "regard  it  well.  This  is 
the  famous  stimulant  that  caused  the  dog  to  dance,1 
and,  administered  in  proper  quantity,  would  even  make 
Her  Majesty  of  Spain  foot  us  a  fandango  on  this  very 
coping  where  we  sit.  Can  you  blame  me,  gentlemen, 
can  you  blame  me,  if  I  endeavour  to  lay  by  a  store 
of  such  potent  medicine  ?  Can  you  blame  me,  if  I 
have  been  striving  all  these  years  to  save  me  an  inde- 
pendence ?  And  now,  at  the  eleventh  hour,  meeting 
with  an  ass  who  carries  a  goodly  load  of  this  same 
stuff,  what  if  I  ease  him  a  little  of  his  burden  ?  In 
exchange,  mind  you,  for  value  received,  oh,  yes,  for 
value  received  —  if  possible.  Zamora  was  not  con- 
quered in  an  hour,  but  under  this  hat  lies  patience, 
gentlemen,  patience  with  ingenuity,  suavity,  discretion, 
foresight,  and  a  host  of  other  ingredients  which  were 
known  to  the  Christian  kings,  and  between  them  shall 
win  me  my  Zamora.  And  whether  in  so  doing  they 
leave  the  one  rival  in  the  lurch  and  the  other  trium- 
phant, or  whether  they  leave  the  former  rejoicing  and 
the  latter  with  a  face  like  the  devil  when  he  looks  on 
holy  water,  why,  what  is  that  to  me?  You  do  not 
answer,  gentlemen ;  you  admit  that  it  is  less  than 
nothing." 

Now  the  frogs,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  admitted  nothing 
of  the  kind.  For  some  moments  they  had  been  listen- 
ing to  a  buzz  of  excitement  which  came  from  the  group 
of  visitors  under  the  lemon  trees. 

Jos6  Ramos  was  the  cause  of  it. 

laPor  el  dinero  baila  el  perro." 
288 


THE   PAGAN  AT  THE   SHRINE 

Ever  since  one  o'clock  he  had  been  taking  out  his 
watch  at  frequent  intervals,  looking  at  it,  putting  it 
back  with  a  sigh,  and  crossing  his  legs  the  other  way 
about. 

When  the  music  came  to  an  end  he  rose  from  his 
chair  and  announced  that  much  against  his  will  he  must 
say  good-bye  to  the  company  there  assembled.  Natu- 
rally this  resolution  brought  down  upon  him  accusations 
of  having  a  sweetheart  waiting  for  him  at  the  balcony, 
in  which  explanation  Lola  and  Concha  were  foremost 
and  most  insistent. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  Jose1  at  length,  "  between 
the  suspicion  of  being  in  love  and  the  imputation  of  being 
a  bull-fighter,  I  choose  the  latter  alternative  without  any 
hesitation." 

"  j  Jesus  !  "  cried  Concha. 

"  Leave  him  alone,"  said  Lola.  "  Our  cousin  is  very 
honest.  He  would  rather  have  a  bull's  horns  in  his 
back  than  a  lady's  lips  upon  his  cheek,  and  he  scorns 
the  false  politeness  that  would  have  made  another 
man  deny  it.  None  of  your  French  manners  for  our 
cousin  !  " 

"  Be  it  known,  then,"  said  Jose,  without  flinching  at 
this  sarcasm,  "  that  within  an  hour,  at  most,  the  bulls 
come  galloping  through  the  pass  up  yonder  between 
the  hills.  Already  they  must  have  left  Valamo,  and  the 
pace  is  beginning  to  increase.  Sefiores,  I  had  intended 
to  suppress  my  tastes  in  deference  to  our  host's ;  but 
since  you  press  me  I  will  frankly  admit  that  to  see  such 
a  sight  as  this  company  of  magnificent  black  devils, 
each  with  his  tail  in  the  air  and  his  nose  on  the  ground, 
scampering  past  in  a  whirlwind  of  dust  and  carrying  all 
before  them,  to  see  such  a  sight  as  this  I  would  even 
bid  good-bye  to  such  charming  company  and  such 
courtly  entertainment  as  this  moment  are  before  me." 
u  289 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

With  that  Jose"  Ramos  threw  his  cloak  around  him, 
and,  stepping  towards  the  Father  Rector  with  his  hat 
uplifted,  bowed  low  and  kissed  his  hand. 

Then  there  arose  a  buzz  of  excitement,  for  every 
one  wanted  to  go  and  see  the  bulls  come  past,  but 
nobody  cared  to  admit  it. 

Don  Luis  asked  Concha  "  would  she  like  to  go  ? " 
and  Concha  asked  Lola.  Lola  asked  her  mother,  who 
turned  to  Dofla  Felipa,  and  Dona  Felipa  asked  Juan, 
and  so  it  came  to  Carna. 

Padre  Ignacio  had  watched  this  by-play  with  silent 
amusement,  and  when  Carna' s  laughing  eyes  were 
turned  upon  him  — 

"  Sefiores,"  said  he,  "  between  the  Jesuits  and  the 
bulls  I  beg  you  not  to  hesitate.  I  lament  that  you 
should  have  tarried  so  short  a  time  with  us,  and  I  wish 
you  sweet  slumbers  during  what  little  portion  of  the 
night  the  bulls  may  leave  you.  Already  it  is  half-past 
one,  and  if,  on  your  return  journey,  you  care  to  wait  for 
early  morning  mass,  you  will  find  the  visitors'  room  of 
the  College  completely  at  your  disposal." 

With  that  they  left  the  orchard  by  a  little  postern 
which  Padre  Martinez  unlocked  for  them. 

Juan  lagged  behind  a  moment  to  bid  the  Rector 
good-bye,  and  the  old  man  leant  one  hand  upon  the  young 
man's  shoulder,  as  if  he  were  loth  to  part  with  him  and 
led  him  aside  to  where  there  was  a  bed  of  rosemary 
beside  an  old  stone  wall  overgrown  with  passion-flower. 

"I  am  summoned  to  Sevilla  by  the  Provincial,"  said 
Padre  Ignacio,  "  upon  the  Company's  service,  and  in  a 
week  or  two  at  most  I  must  set  out.  The  news  has 
just  arrived.  My  dear  nephew,  do  not  fail  me ;  be 
with  me  whatever  time  is  possible,  that  I  may  leave 
Santa  Fe  with  my  task  accomplished,  the  enemy  retreat- 
ing in  disorder." 

290 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  It  almost  seems  to-night,"  said  Juan,  "  as  if  his 
retreat  already  had  begun.  Pray  for  me,  my  dear 
uncle,  for  I  yet  hope  you  may  avail." 

"  Aye !  "  laughed  the  Rector,  with  an  airy  wave  of 
his  hand,  his  eyes  seeming  full  of  brave  confidence. 
"  Young  men  pass  through  many  phases  before  they 
know  their  own  minds.  I  knew  such  a  one,  his  state 
was  far  worse  than  yours !  Why,  do  you  suppose  that 
we  —  " 

Juan's  hand  was  resting  on  the  Jesuit's  arm,  and  by 
a  sudden  pressure  he  called  his  attention  to  Padre 
Martinez,  who  was  stooping  in  the  shadow  of  the  wall 
and  gathering  himself  a  sprig  of  rosemary.  He  did  not 
seem  to  be  heeding  them  and  presently  came  forward 
on  the  path,  breaking  off  the  long  stalk  of  his  rosemary, 
and  looking  at  them  both  as  if  buried  in  thought. 
Juan  bade  them  good  night  and  caught  up  to  Carna, 
who  was  already  starting  up  the  hill. 

Tfo  Patas  resumed  his  duty  beside  Dona  Felipa 
with  cheerful  resignation,  but  this  time  they  went  in 
front. 

"I  beg  you,  Senora,"  said  Tio  Patas,  "to  put  the 
best  foot  forward,  for,  unless  I  am  mistaken,  the  bulls 
are  nearly  due,  and  as  we  are  directly  in  the  road  I 
leave  you  to  imagine — " 

"  i  Dios  mi'o !  "  cried  Dofta  Felipa,  turning  round  to 
Jose  Ramos,  "  let  us  scramble  up  the  side ;  the  bulls 
are  coming ! " 

"  If  you  will  step  forward  somewhat  more  briskly, 
Senora,  I  think  we  may  gain  the  pass  before  they  come. 
Moreover,  the  rumble  in  the  distance  will  give  us  ample 
warning." 

With  that  Jose"  came  to  the  other  arm  of  Dofia  Felipa, 
leaving  Concha  and  Lola  to  help  their  mother,  an  office 
they  performed  with  peals  of  merry  laughter,  and  Juan 

291 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

was  helping  Carna  by  the  arm.  The  lovers  were 
strangely  silent. 

They  gained  the  pass  in  safety  and  found  that  a  score 
of  people  were  there  before  them. 

The  rocky  walls  on  either  side  went  upwards  in  steps 
and  terraces,  trodden  by  goats  and  sheep.  Along  one 
of  these  steps,  some  six  feet  above  the  road,  they  took 
their  stand.  In  front  of  them  was  a  ledge  of  serrated 
rock  which  formed  a  natural  barrier. 

Dofla  Felipa  was  panting  in  a  most  heart-rending 
fashion,  and  patting  her  corsets  to  make  her  heart  lie 
down. 

Carna,  whose  face  was  flushed  with  excitement,  took 
off  her  beautiful  silk  shawl  of  Manila,  folded  it  care- 
lessly, and  placed  it  upon  the  rock. 

To  her  right  stood  Don  Luis,  and  Juan  was  next  to 
her  on  the  left. 

Some  people  opposite  had  a  guitar  and  were  singing 
seguidillas. 

Don  Luis  was  just  saying  to  Jose"  Ramos  that  they 
need  not  have  hurried  after  all,  when  the  latter  cried 
"  j  sh ! "  the  guitar  became  silent,  and  a  low  murmur 
went  round  the  pass,  for  every  one  had  heard  the 
sound  of  a  distant  rumbling. 

During  the  next  five  minutes  the  smallest  pebble 
falling  upon  the  rocks  would  have  raised  an  indignant 
hissing  from  the  assemblage,  for  every  one  was  thrilled 
by  that  most  real  and  solid  of  all  human  joys  —  antici- 
pation. 

A  couple  of  lads  had  crept  along  the  rocks  towards 
the  crest  of  the  hill  and  knelt  looking  out  over  the 
slope  beyond  the  pass.  In  the  far  distance  they  saw 
a  cloud  coming  along  the  road  in  the  moonlight,  and 
people  who  could  only  hear  the  noise  of  it  watched  the 
excited  attitude  of  those  who  could  both  see  and  hear. 

292 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Meanwhile  the  distant  rumbling  grew  louder  and  came 
nearer.  At  first  it  had  been  only  a  rumour  of  coming 
events ;  then,  from  a  sound  like  the  falling  of  hail  on  a 
winter's  road,  it  grew  to  a  din  like  the  chopping  of 
mincemeat  by  half  a  dozen  cooks  in  an  adjacent  room. 
This  sound  increased  in  volume,  swelled  into  a  roar, 
ascended  to  a  roll  of  angry  thunder,  then  every  eye 
was  strained  upon  the  point  of  a  lance  which  first 
appeared  above  the  crest  of  the  hill ;  after  the  lance, 
a  broad-brimmed  hat,  then  a  pair  of  whiskers,  a  gaily 
tinselled  body,  a  horse's  head,  his  body,  four  hoofs  and 
a  tail,  all  flying  for  dear  life. 

The  picador,  whose  clean-shaven  lips  wore  a  grim 
smile  of  confidence,  looked  straight  before  him.  As- 
cending the  slope,  he  had  given  a  glance  behind,  meas- 
ured his  distance  from  the  nearest  beast,  and  saw  that 
it  was  enough.  Had  his  horse  stumbled  and  fallen,  his 
life  had  not  been  worth  a  maravedi. 

The  tail  of  the  horse  had  only  passed  them  by  fifty 
paces  when  the  first  bull  came  galloping  past.  The 
dust  that  the  horse  had  raised  was  as  nothing  com- 
pared with  the  mighty  smother  which  now  went  flying 
upwards. 

Dofla  Felipa  fell  back  gasping  against  the  rock,  the 
girls  with  dilated  eyes  held  their  handkerchiefs  to  their 
faces.  Ti'o  Patas,  having  excellent  accommodation, 
inhaled  more  dust  than  any  three  people  present,  and 
forthwith  sneezed  on  Dofia  Felipa  in  the  confusion. 
There  was  a  deafening  roar,  a  dim  vision  of  some  dozen 
black  hides  flying  along  the  road,  an  angry  bellow,  an 
excited  shout,  a  dense  fog  of  road  dust,  and  —  the  bulls 
had  gone. 

Behind  them  came  spurring  more  horsemen,  and 
a  few  men  on  foot,  each  with  a  stone  in  a  sling,  shout- 
ing hoarsely  and  running  like  the  wind.  But  in  those 

293 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

few  seconds  something  had  happened,  and  this  incident 
it  was  that  had  caused  the  excited  shout. 

Carna's  silken  shawl  had  so  fallen  on  the  rock  that 
when  it  came  open  it  began  to  hang  down  towards  the 
road. 

At  first  her  elbow  held  it  in  position,  but  when  the 
picador  arrived  on  the  brow  of  the  hill  she  raised  her 
elbow,  and  —  down  fell  the  shawl. 

Like  the  darting  of  an  adder  Juan  was  over  the  rock 
and,  alighting  on  the  dusty  road,  whipped  up  the  shawl, 
threw  it  round  his  shoulder,  and  then  fell  flat  as  a  lizard 
against  the  rock,  for  he  had  no  time  to  clamber  into 
safety. 

The  first  bull  swept  past  him  without  notice,  for  he 
kept  to  the  middle  of  the  road ;  the  second  jerked  his 
horn  at  him  and  missed  him  ;  but  the  third,  which  was 
abreast  with  two  others,  turned  his  head  downwards 
and  sideways,  lifted  his  horn  towards  Juan's  body,  and 
laid  open  his  right-hand  sleeve  from  wrist  to  shoulder 
as  he  passed  him.  Not  only  this,  but  he  cut  such  a 
gash  in  the  forearm  that  blood  came  spurting  out  and 
coloured  Juan's  shirt-sleeve  crimson  in  a  trice. 

Thereupon  Dofia  Felipa  was  for  swooning. 

Jos6  Ramos  gave  a  low  whistle  and  took  out  his 
handkerchief,  but  before  he  could  reach  the  sufferer 
Carna  had  torn  her  handkerchief  into  three  strips  and 
was  knotting  them  together.  She  seized  hold  of  Juan's 
arm  without  flinching,  ripped  back  his  sleeve,  and  firmly 
bound  the  wound.  From  his  shirt-sleeve  she  made 
more  bandages  and  wound  them  on  the  top. 

Then  she  began  to  cry,  and  pray  what  was  she  cry- 
ing for  ?  Concha  wanted  to  know  and  Lola  wanted  to 
know,  but  nobody  was  able  to  discover  the  reason  ;  and 
when  they  pressed  her,  she  stamped  her  little  foot ;  so 
what  were  they  to  do  but  leave  her  alone  ?  When 

294 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

Carna  began  to  cry,  Don  Luis  was  looking  from  her 
face  to  the  shawl  she  had  cast  at  her  feet,  from  the 
shawl  to  Juan,  and  from  Juan  to  Carna,  and  his  brow 
was  very  dark. 

On  the  road  down  from  the  Fonda  del  Trini  he  found 
himself  for  a  moment  alone  with  Ti'o  Patas. 

"  Don  Luis,"  said  that  worthy,  leering  at  him,  "  we  are 
doing  badly.  You  are  the  man  who  ought  to  have 
jumped  after  the  shawl." 

"  Friend  Patas,"  returned  the  captain,  "  get  you 
behind  me  till  my  hand  has  finished  itching  to  toss  you 

over  the  cliff." 

######## 

When  the  visitors  left  the  orchard,  the  two  priests  sat 
together  in  silence  for  some  minutes  whilst  the  lay 
brothers  and  novices  removed  the  tables. 

When  at  last  they  were  alone,  Padre  Martinez  stood 
before  the  Father  Rector  as  though  about  to  wish  him 
good  night. 

"  I  feel  sure,"  said  Padre  Ignacio  thoughtfully,  "  that 
we  could  not  do  better.  Both  of  them  are  ours,  and  — 
r  union  fait  la  force.  Both  of  them  are  fairly  rich  ;  their 
capitals,  united,  would  make  us  such  a  vantage  point  — 
you  comprehend  me?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  other,  with  a  dryness  somewhat 
tempered  by  deference. 

"  You  are  not  enthusiastic,  I  know.  You  seemed  to 
think  this  morning  that  we  were  moving  too  hastily." 

The  other  folded  his  arms  and  bowed  his  head. 

"  Well !  well !  The  die  is  not  altogether  cast  as  yet 
For  myself,  I  see  every  profit  for  us,  and  little  or  no 
disadvantage." 

"  The  young  lady  I  will  answer  for ;  her  principles 
are  •  everything  they  should  be." 

"  And  her  future  partner  ? "  asked  Padre  Ignacio. 
295 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE    SHRINE 

"  I  do  not  know,"  replied  the  other,  and  cast  down 
his  eyes. 

The  Father  Rector  leant  his  face  upon  his  hand  and 
looked  along  the  orchard,  heaving  a  long-drawn  sigh. 

"  It  will  not  be  the  only  matter,"  continued  the  Rec- 
tor after  a  pause,  and  with  a  subtle  irony  in  his  eyes 
and  voice  which  the  other  did  not  at  first  perceive,  "  in 
which  you  have  suppressed  your  own  honest  opinions, 
obedient  to  discipline.  I  cannot  too  highly  praise  the 
cheerful  consistency  with  which  you  have  carried  on  a 
policy  so  foreign  to  your  own  ideas." 

"  You  allude  to  the  anti-Jesuit  movement  in  Santa 
Fe  ?  " 

"  I  allude  to  the  anti-Jesuit  movement,  yes.  And  I 
say  that  for  a  man  who  has  concluded  by  the  light  of 
his  own  intelligence  that  the  one  and  only  policy  should 
be  militant,  that  the  movement  should  be  attacked  root 
and  branch,  day  and  night,  without  cessation,  for  that 
man  to  obliterate  himself,  to  take  into  his  hands  the 
mechanism  of  a  completely  different  system,  and  to 
turn  that  mechanism  silently  and  consistently  to  the 
very  best  effect  as  you  are  doing,  this  is  a  triumph !  It 
is  a  glorious  victory !  It  is  a  monument,  my  brother,  to 
the  perfect  working  of  the  Jesuit  discipline." 

Padre  Ignacio  had  leaned  forward  somewhat  in  his 
chair,  and,  with  a  hand  on  either  arm  thereof,  was 
looking  up  steadily  into  the  other's  eyes.  As  he  went 
on,  Padre  Martinez  little  by  little  detected  a  certain 
modulation  in  his  praise,  and  at  length  understood  it 
just  as  clearly  as  though  trumpet  had  brayed  it  from 
the  house-tops. 

For  one  moment  he  returned  the  Rector's  gaze,  then 
moved  and  flinched,  and  in  that  moment  Padre  Ignacio 
knew  that  private  reports  had  been  posted  to  the  Pro- 
vincial. 

296 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

And  Padre  Martinez  knew  that  the  other  had  read 
his  secret. 

"  Father,  remain  with  God ! "  said  Padre  Martinez, 
and,  slightly  bending  one  knee,  he  kissed  the  Rector's 
hand. 

"  Go  you  with  God !  "  replied  Padre  Ignacio  kindly, 
and  when  Padre  Martinez  had  departed  he  sank  back 
in  his  chair  and  lost  himself  in  thought. 

"This  summons  from  the  Provincial,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, "  is  no  doubt  the  outcome  of  a  subordinate  report 
from  this  good  zealous  man,  of  which  I  shall  never  even 
hear  the  tenor." 

And,  thinking  of  Padre  Martinez,  and  of  the  sum- 
mons that  had  come  from  Se villa,  the  Rector  fixed  his 
eyes  upon  Charles's  Wain  high  up  in  the  heavens. 
Yielding  to  the  lateness  of  the  hour  and  the  tranquillity 
of  his  surroundings,  at  length  he  fell  asleep  and  dreamt 
a  dream.  This  is  what  seemed  to  happen. 

As  in  the  days  of  old,  when  yet  he  was  alone  in  the 
little  Fonda  del  Trini,  he  had  wandered  out  at  sunset, 
book  in  hand,  towards  the  mouth  of  the  river  Guadalote, 
where  it  spreads  out  its  sandy  delta  to  the  sea.  It 
was  mid-winter,  and  in  the  sky  hung  frowning  clouds 
whose  sharp  outlines,  quickly  changing  with  the  wind 
which  moaned  across  the  estuary,  threatened  a  stormy 
night. 

Already  he  had  passed  the  seamost  rushes  and  had 
reached  that  brackish  waste  where  nothing  grows,  when 
a  weird  sound  fell  upon  his  ear,  and,  stopping  to  listen, 
he  made  out  the  despairing  cry  of  a  human  being  clam- 
ouring for  help,  the  shout  always  ending  in  a  wail.  At 
length,  after  peering  all  around  him  through  the  gather- 
ing darkness,  he  descried  amongst  the  logs  and  stones 
and  boulders  a  something  that  seemed  to  move,  and 
when  he  came  nearer  he  saw  that  it  was  a  man.  The 

297 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

poor  wretch  was  buried  to  the  waist  in  one  of  the  quick- 
sands whose  muddy  surface  was  slowly  creeping  up 
and  up  towards  his  shoulders. 

"  Save  me !  "  screamed  the  man,  and  the  priest  drew 
near  to  him. 

"  Ah,  do  not  come  into  the  quicksand !  "  he  cried 
again. 

"  How  then  may  I  help  you  ? "  asked  the  priest. 

"  Cannot  you  see  that  my  poor  body  is  beyond  re- 
demption ? "  moaned  the  man.  "  You  could  only  sink 
with  me,  you  could  not  pull  me  out." 

"What  then  may  I  do  ? "  asked  the  priest  in  anguish. 

"  Confess  me ! "  cried  the  man.  "  Save  my  guilty 
soul ! " 

The  Jesuit  took  his  crucifix  from  his  bosom. 

"Speak!"  he  said,  advancing  as  closely  to  the  sink- 
ing man  as  the  sand  would  safely  bear  him. 

"  Answer  me,"  replied  the  other,  crossing  his  hands 
upon  his  breast  and  bending  upon  the  priest  a  look 
that  searched  into  his  very  soul.  "  Are  you  a  fit  priest 
to  confess  me  ?  Do  you  yourself  believe  ?  " 

The  mud  had  now  reached  the  man's  armpits,  and  he 
was  sinking  fast.  Padre  Ignacio  seemed  to  be  smitten 
dumb  when  he  tried  to  answer  this  question. 

"  Answer  me ! "  screamed  the  victim  as  the  water 
reached  his  chin. 

Padre  Ignacio  struggled  nearer  to  him  upon  his  knees, 
but  he  could  not  unseal  his  own  lips.  He  battled  with 
the  powers  that  held  his  mouth,  he  beat  upon  his  breast 
in  agony. 

"  Answer  !  answer  !  "  came  the  dying  sob  of  the  peni- 
tent, but  the  very  motion  of  his  lips  so  ruffled  the  water 
that  it  leapt  into  his  mouth. 

Then,  slowly,  his  face  descended,  the  eyes,  in  unspeak- 
able agony  and  reproach,  fixing  themselves  upon  the 

298 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Jesuit  with  such  intensity  that  he  could  do  nothing  more 
than  kneel  there  mesmerized,  dumb  and  tortured. 

When  the  water  had  closed  over  the  poor  wretch's 
head  and  the  ripples  went  circling  outwards,  then  at 
last  Padre  Ignacio  seemed  to  regain  control  over  him- 
self. He  knelt  yet  nearer,  so  near  that  he  could  peer 
down  at  the  head  just  dimly  visible.  The  head  fell 
back,  a  face  looked  up  at  him,  slowly  took  form  ;  then 
for  the  first  time  he  recognized  the  dead  face  of  his  own 
son  beneath  the  water  and  —  awoke  ! 

He  rose  to  his  feet,  in  agony,  so  vivid  had  been  this 
dream,  crying,  "  O  God  !  O  God  !  "  then,  falling  upon 
his  knees,  sobbed  out,  "  O  God,  can  it  be  Thy  avenging 
hand  that  has  guided  the  enemy's  lance  to  the  weakest 
seams  in  my  armour  ?  Can  it  be  that  Thou  hast  been 
pleased  to  punish  the  crime  of  my  youth  now,  in  the 
ripeness  of  my  age,  now,  through  the  medium  of  my 
child  begotten  in  sin  ?  Hast  Thou  so  patiently  bided 
Thy  time,  O  Lord,  that  this  infection  might  be  con- 
veyed unto  me  by  my  son,  that  the  eyes  of  the  father 
might  dwell  upon  the  twofold  agony  of  the  older  and 
younger  generation  ?  Hast  Thou  numbered  me  among 
those  that  hate  Thee  ?  Look  down  upon  my  struggle 
with  mercy !  Abide  Thou  with  me  in  the  eventide  of 
life!  Tear  Thou  from  my  polluted  heart  the  growing 
weed  of  doubt !  Teach  me  that  Christianity  is  better 
than  a  mockery  !  Show  me  that  the  uniform  I  wear  is 
more  than  an  idle  human  fantasy !  Forsake  me  not ! 
Not  this,  O  my  Redeemer,  not  this !  Or  if  it  be  meant 
for  me,  this  spirit  of  unbelief,  grant  me  for  pity's  sake 
that  the  heart  of  my  child  may  be  cleansed  thereof.  O 
Thou  who  wast  able  to  cast  out  the  unclean  spirits  from 
a  man  and  cause  them  to  enter  into  the  swine  that  ran 
down  a  steep  place  into  the  sea,  deal  Thou  with  me 
even  as  with  the  swine  of  old.  Banish  Thou  my  soul 

299 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

down  to  the  nethermost  hell,  so  that  my  dear  son  may 
walk  with  Thee  in  Paradise  !  " 

The  old  man's  hat  had  fallen  to  the  ground,  disclosing 
his  silvery  curls,  his  lips  were  parted,  his  arms  extended 
by  his  side,  the  hands  opened  outwards  in  mute  entreaty, 
and  his  upturned  face,  on  which  the  moonlight  fell,  was 
suffused  by  an  eager  yearning. 

From  a  slit  in  the  persianas  yonder  in  the  College  two 
black  eyes  were  straining  themselves  to  watch  the 
Rector's  movements  as  he  sank  upon  his  knees  in  the 
shadows  surrounded  by  the  mist. 

The  eyes  were  those  of  Padre  Martinez. 


300 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

"  Till  all  the  crimson  changed,  and  past 
Into  deep  orange  o'er  the  sea, 
Low  on  her  knees  herself  she  cast ; 
Before  Our  Lady  murmured  she." 

TENNYSON. 

ST.  JOHN  THE  BAPTIST  was  already  one  month 
old. 

Underneath  the  old  vine,  where  it  climbed  across  the 
backyard  on  trellis-work  before  ascending  to  the  win- 
dows of  Dofia  Carna's  house,  stood  Ti'o  Patas.  In  his 
left  hand  he  held  one  of  the  large  brass  reflectors  belong- 
ing to  the  oil-lamps  that  hung  from  the  parlour  ceiling. 
In  his  right  hand  was  a  rag  dipped  in  olive  oil  and  chalk. 

By  dint  of  patient  rubbing  the  reflector  had  attained 
such  a  brilliant  polish  that  when  he  had  wiped  away 
the  chalk  and  leered  at  himself  he  could  see  every 
stubbly  hair  on  his  grizzled  chin  reflected  as  in  a  mirror. 

Having  finished  with  the  first  reflector  he  took  up  the 
second,  and  resumed  an  old  song  that  he  had  been  sing- 
ing to  himself  in  a  shrill  nasal  voice  that  sometimes  broke 
down  with  an  unexpected  crack. 

Now  the  song  that  Tfo  Patas  was  singing  bore 
reference  to  a  knight  of  great  renown,  a  knight  with 
many  shields  and  quarterings,  a  knight  that  softened 
the  heart  of  the  sternest  judge,  that  did  not  lose  his 
authority  "  even  though  one  cut  him  into  quarters," 
that  made  the  herdsman  companion  to  the  duke,  that 
won  the  kind  glances  of  the  loveliest  dames  in  Christen- 

301 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

dom.  When  he  arrived  at  the  end  of  a  verse,  the  name 
of  this  knight  appeared  — 

"  Poderoso  caballero 
Es  Don  Dinero." 

"  A  mighty  cavalier  is  Sir  Money."  The  "  Don  Dinero  " 
was  rolled  out  with  a  great  relish,  especially  the  "o,"  which 
went  quavering  up  amongst  the  green  bunches  of  unripe 
grapes. 

In  between  the  verses  the  old  man's  face  was  in- 
cessantly changing  its  expression.  Now  he  would 
shake  his  head  with  a  grunt  and  purse  his  lips,  now 
he  would  lean  his  head  on  one  side  and  stick  his  tongue 
out  at  his  own  reflection,  then  without  any  warning 
he  would  break  into  a  noiseless  laugh  which  puckered 
up  his  leathery  face  in  a  manner  most  uncanny  to  behold. 

Ti'o  Patas  was  building  a  castle  in  the  air,  and  not 
one  stone  or  stick  or  nail  or  brick  of  all  that  airy  fabric 
but  what  was  niched  from  his  neighbour  by  compulsion 
or  deceit. 

In  the  middle  of  a  verse  Conchita  interrupted  him. 

"  My  mistress  says  you  are  to  fetch  an  azumbre  of 
cows'  milk  from  the  house  of  Pedro." 

"Tell  your  mistress  the  milk  cannot  be  fetched." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  the  old  cow  is  dead,  and  even  Don  Dinero 
couldn't  revive  her  — 

"  Poderoso  caballero 
Es  Don  Dinero-o-o  ! " 

"  Is  there  no  other  cows'  milk  to  be  got  ? " 

"Of  goats'  milk  — the  sea!  But  the  only  other  cow 
that  I  can  think  of  is  a  Jesuit." 

Conchita  disappeared,  and  Tfo  Patas  continued  his 
rubbing  and  singing. 

Half  an  hour  went  by,  and  the  second  reflector  was 
302 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

finished  and  laid  down,  when  Conchita  once  more 
stood  in  the  doorway  shading  her  eyes  from  a  roguish 
sunbeam  which  fell  slanting  in  between  the  tendrils 
of  the  vine. 

"  Friend  Patas,  my  mistress  says,  will  you  have  the 
goodness  to  take  this  basket  of  confectionery,  cover 
it  over  with  vine  leaves,  and  bear  it  to  the  convent ; 
give  her  regards  to  Padre  Martinez,  and  ask  if  he  can 
spare  her  an  azumbre  of  cows'  milk." 

"  All  that  says  your  mistress  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Senor !  " 

"  And  what  do  you  say  ? " 

"  That  you  had  better  wash  your  face  first." 

And  having  left  Ti'o  Patas  standing  with  the  basket 
in  his  hand,  Conchita  skipped  away. 

Ti'o  Patas  put  down  the  basket  and  carefully  looked 
at  himself  in  one  of  the  reflectors.  Being  unable  to 
discover  any  one  portion  of  his  face  which  was  dirtier 
than  the  rest,  he  contented  himself  with  a  vigorous 
rubbing  of  his  hands,  and  owing  no  doubt  to  the  well- 
known  virtues  of  chalk  and  oil  under  friction,  his  fingers 
and  nails  acquired  a  rich  mahogany  polish,  which  glis- 
tened in  the  sun. 

Having  covered  the  puff  pastry  with  vine  leaves 
and  fig  leaves,  and  a  great  banana  leaf  over  all,  he 
climbed  into  the  hayloft  among  the  fowls'  nests,  and 
shortly  afterwards  took  to  the  road  and  made  for  Cinco 
Caminos. 

On  the  way  to  the  College  he  passed  a  wine-shop 
named  La  Casualidad,  and  called  for  a  glass  of 
aguardiente,  which  he  paid  for  with  two  hens'  eggs 
out  of  his  pockets,  a  currency  well  known  to  the  tavern- 
keeper,  who  took  them  with  a  wink. 

"  And  where  are  you  going,  friend  ? "  he  asked  of 
Ti'o  Patas. 

303 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  To  the  Jesuits  for  cows'  milk,  for  Thursday  night 
is  our  tertulia,  and  my  young  lady  is  for  making  a 
special  punch,  or  a  special  custard,  or  a  special  egg 
flip,  or  what  you  will.  And  in  Santa  Fe  are  naught 
but  goats  — 

" '  Cabras  y  cabr6nes.' " 

The  old  man  whistled  a  well-known  ribald  song  of 
which  the  subject  reminded  him. 

The  barber  of  Cinco  Caminos  was  seated  on  a  bench, 
and  alongside  him  were  two  muleteers,  whose  beasts 
were  tied  outside. 

One  of  the  muleteers  burst  out  laughing  at  his  recol- 
lection of  the  ditty,  and  this  encouraged  Tfo  Patas,  who 
felt  that  he  was  being  very  funny. 

"Thus  goes  the  measure,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  and 
raised  his  arms  above  his  head  and  began  to  wriggle 
his  old  body  about,  snapping  his  fingers  and  mimicking 
a  dancer.  The  counterfeit  smile  of  voluptuousness  on 
his  grizzled  face,  the  glistening  yellow  teeth  and  leering 
eyes,  the  dainty  capering  of  his  feet,  and  the  contortions 
of  his  stomach  so  fascinated  the  muleteers  that  they 
swore  he  was  a  very  merry  fellow. 

"  And  what  might  you  have  in  the  basket,  friend  ? " 
asked  the  barber,  when  the  dance  had  come  to  a 
finish. 

"  Some  four-and-twenty  morsels  of  puff  pastry.  This 
is  a  matter  of  exchange  and  barter,  gentlemen,  cakes  for 
cows'  milk." 

Whereupon  he  raised  the  leaves  and  showed  them 
a  pile  of  most  delicious  confectionery,  puff  paste 
with  almonds  and  apricots  inside,  a  specialty  of 
Carna's. 

"  Why,  now  I  come  to  think  of  it,"  continued  Tfo 
Patas,  "these  trifles  should  go  very  well  with  a  glass 

304 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

of  aguardiente,  and,  after  all,  twenty-four  is  a  funny 
number,  so  why  not  make  it  twenty  ?  " 

And  he  handed  them  each  a  tart. 

"  So  our  fisher  lad  is  going  to  marry  your  young 
lady  ?  "  said  the  barber,  with  a  tart  in  one  hand  and 
his  wine  glass  in  the  other. 

"'There's  many  a  slip  'twixt  the  cup  and  the  lip,'" 
said  Tfo  Patas. 

"  Only  an  hour  ago  he  was  walking  along  the  road," 
remarked  the  tavern-keeper.  "  What  a  mighty  fine 
gentleman  he  has  become !  To  think  that  once  he 
went  barefooted ! " 

"I  met  him  in  Cinco  Caminos,"  said  the  barber;  "he 
was  talking  with  Don  Pedro  the  Republican." 

"  Was  he,  though  ?  "  muttered  Tfo  Patas,  rubbing  his 
chin  reflectively. 

"  Short  work  Don  Pedro  would  make  of  the  Jesuits 
if  he  had  his  way,"  put  in  the  tavern-keeper,  leaning 
on  his  counter  with  folded  arms. 

"  And  of  all  the  other  priests,  too,"  added  the  barber. 
"  He  would  turn  the  churches  into  picture  galleries." 

"And  the  Jesuit  College  first  of  all,  eh?"  cackled 
Ti'o  Patas  ironically. 

Thus  they  continued  gossiping  for  half  an  hour,  and 
Tfo  Patas  having  dropped  into  his  element,  laid  down 
the  law  about  religion  in  general,  dealing  with  the  Jesuits 
and  Republicans  in  particular. 

At  length  the  muleteers  got  up  to  go,  and  Ti'o  Patas, 
finding  his  audience  forsaking  him,  picked  up  his  basket, 
rearranged  the  leaves,  and  sallied  forth  once  more  on 
his  road  to  the  College. 

When  he  approached  the  gates  his  face  was  wearing 
an  expression  of  melancholy  sanctity. 

The  basket  of  pastry  was  handed  to  the  novice  with 
a  courteous  message,  and  after  a  few  minutes'  waiting 
x  305 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

a  priest  beckoned  Ti'o  Patas  to  pass  through  the  gate 
into  the  orchard. 

Padre  Martinez  was  pacing  up  and  down  the  orchard 
with  a  book  under  his  arm. 

"  Good  morning,  friend  Patas,"  said  Padre  Martinez ; 
"  sit  down  and  wait  awhile.  They  are  milking  the 
cow,  the  same  cow  you  used  to  milk  yourself,  do  you 
remember?" 

"  Aye,  Padre !  " 

"  And  how  goes  your  mistress  ? " 

"  Very  well,  praise  be  to  God  !  and  sends  her  regards 
to  yourself  and  the  Father  Rector." 

"The  Father  Rector  set  out  for  Sevilla  a  few  days 
ago,  so  that  will  leave  me  a  double  share  of  Dofla 
Carna's  far-famed  puff  pastry  for  myself.  And,  d  pro- 
pdsito,  you  must  thank  her  most  heartily.  An  azumbre 
of  cows'  milk  is  a  poor  exchange  for  the  delicacies  she 
has  sent  us.  Come  with  me,  and  I  will  gather  her  a 
nosegay." 

So  saying,  Padre  Martinez  led  the  way  to  a  certain 
part  of  the  orchard  where  roses  and  carnations  grew, 
and  gathering  up  his  skirts  fell  to  plucking  blossoms 
one  by  one  and  handing  them  to  Ti'o  Patas,  who  com- 
menced to  make  them  into  a  bouquet. 

"  This,"  said  Padre  Martinez,  "  is  a  bed  of  rosemary 
we  have  planted  since  you  left  us.  By  the  way,  rose- 
mary !  What  was  I  thinking  of  ?  Yes !  The  youth 
who  threw  a  stone  at  Padre  Mateo  the  other  morning 
and  cut  him  in  the  cheek  was  wearing  a  sprig  of  rose- 
mary in  his  cap.  To  be  sure,  that  is  what  the  rosemary 
put  me  in  mind  of." 

"  j  Jesus !  Have  they  got  to  throwing  stones  at 
us  ?  " 

"  So  it  would  appear,"  answered  Padre  Martinez, 
stooping  over  a  rose-bush  and  carefully  bending  his 

306 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

hand  to  avoid  the  thorns,  "  so  it  would  appear !  I 
wonder  if  the  sprig  of  rosemary  had  a  meaning,  or  if  it 
was  merely  there  by  chance  ?  " 

"  I  know  not  But  it  would  not  take  me  long  to 
smell  it  out,  if  you  wanted  the  explanation." 

Padre  Martinez  stood  up  suddenly  with  a  dark  crim- 
son rose  between  his  thumb  and  finger,  straightened 
his  back,  and  looked  long  and  fixedly  at  the  nose  of 
Ti'o  Patas,  as  though  he  were  estimating  its  hidden 
capabilities. 

"  Could  you  so  ? "  said  the  priest  at  length,  stepping 
off  the  flower-bed  and  handing  him  the  rose. 

"  Why,  who  could  do  it  better  ? "  replied  Tfo  Patas, 
with  a  grin  of  confidence  and  an  eye  for  possibilities. 

The  Jesuit  seemed  to  meditate.  He  placed  a  hand 
on  either  hip,  and  his  eager  black  eyes  watched  the 
busy  fingers  of  Tfo  Patas  as  he  bound  the  last  turn  of 
string  round  the  bouquet 

"  Then  you  shall  do  so,"  said  Padre  Martinez  at 
length,  "  and  you  shall  tell  me,  in  confidence,  anything 
you  glean  as  to  the  hands  that  are  pulling  the  strings 
in  this  conspiracy  against  us."  . 

What  was  it  that  made  Tfo  Patas  pause  in  tying  the 
knot  ?  First  he  looked  up  towards  the  tank  where  Don 
Luis  had  spoken  to  him  on  the  Eve  of  St.  John  the 
Baptist,  then  he  looked  at  the  priest,  then  at  the  bou- 
quet, then  up  the  orchard,  then  down  the  orchard,  back 
to  the  bouquet  and  up  at  the  priest  again. 

In  those  few  seconds  an  idea  had  come  into  his  mind. 
Nay,  it  had  jumped  in,  and  now  it  was  dancing  about 
inside  his  cranium. 

He  tied  up  the  bouquet,  placed  it  upon  the  ground, 
and  approaching  more  nearly  to  Padre  Martinez  whis- 
pered in  his  ear  — 

"  '  Breed  ravens,  and  they  will  peck  your  eyes  out'  " 
307 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

The  watchful  black  eyes  of  the  priest  were  fixed  upon 
him  as  though  they  would  read  his  soul. 

"  You  mean  —  ?  "  said  Padre  Martinez. 

"  I  mean  that  I  have  seen  the  devil  come  hopping 
into  Santa  Fe  in  many  strange  shapes  before  now,  but 
never  did  I  see  him  so  well  favoured  and  so  cunningly  dis- 
guised as  he  is  at  the  present  moment,  God  save  us  all !  " 

So  intense  was  the  Jesuit's  concentration  upon  these 
words  that  he  scarcely  seemed  to  breathe,  but  stood 
there  with  folded  arms  immovable  as  a  statue,  almost 
grudging  himself  the  necessity  of  speaking. 

"  To  whom  may  this  refer  ? " 

"  To  a  certain  young  man  who  is  courting  a  certain 
young  lady,  to  a  certain  young  man  who  flies  the  red 
flag  of  anarchy,  to  a  certain  young  man  who  secretly 
confers  with  those  who  are  known  to  be  our  enemies, 
who  consorts  with  rabid  Republicans  and  speaks  bit- 
terly of  the  Jesuits,  who  would  make  your  College  into 
a  picture  gallery !  And  there  is  more  besides." 

Padre  Martinez  watched  the  speaker's  face  until  his 
lips  had  ceased  to  move,  and  for  some  while  after  still 
remained  watching  him,  like  some  great  cat  that  has 
seen  a  mouse's  whiskers  poking  out  of  a  hole,  and  waits 
for  the  mouse  to  follow.  At  length  he  drew  a  pro- 
found sigh,  not  of  sorrow,  but  of  respiration  in  arrears, 
and  asked  — 

"  Has  Dofla  Felipa  seen  aught  of  this  ? " 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  Dofla  Felipa  does  not  move 
among  the  people  every  day  as  I  do.  Moreover,  with 
due  respect  to  your  mercy,  a  mittened  cat  is  a  bad 
mouser.  Be  that  as  it  may,  these  two  eyes  have  seen 
the  devil's  ears  poking  out  from  under  his  hat,  and  if 
other  eyes  haven't  seen  it,  they  will  anon." 

"  Do  you  comprehend,  friend  Patas,  what  a  very  grave 
thing  this  is  that  you  are  telling  me  ? " 

308 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  Aye !  Graver  than  you  think,  Padre.  Have  a  care 
that  every  window  in  the  College  be  not  broken  before 
another  fortnight." 

"  And  are  you  sure  of  your  ground :' " 

"Would  that  I  were  as  sure  of  the  road  to  heaven ! '' 

Then  came  the  Where  ?  When  ?  and  How  ? 

Such  questions  troubled  not  the  ready  brain  of  Ti'o 
Patas  one  jot. 

He  had  heard  this  in  Cinco  Caminos  from  the  barber, 
he  had  heard  that  in  Santa  Fe  from  the  letter-writer, 
the  other  on  the  high  road  from  a  farmer,  and  as  luck  or 
the  devil  would  have  it,  he  did  not  contradict  himself. 
******** 

When  Ti'o  Patas  reached  home  late  with  the  cows' 
milk  he  had  promised  himself  a  good  long  hour  for 
lunch  in  the  kitchen  and  a  few  minutes'  siesta  in  the 
hayloft,  for  indeed  he  felt  very  well  satisfied,  and 
judged  himself  deserving  of  reward.  He  was  therefore 
far  from  pleased  when  Maria  poked  a  basin  of  rice  and 
cockles  boiled  with  saffron  under  his  nose,  and  bade  him 
"  eat  as  if  the  devil  were  after  him,  for  her  mistress 
wanted  the  carriage  at  half-past  three." 

And  Conchita,  very  busy  at  cleaning  shoes  in  a  cor- 
ner, muttered  something  about  "  old  rats  that  loitered 
by  the  way." 

"jEa!"  said  Tfo  Patas  with  a  hand  on  either  knee, 
and  determined  that  no  one  should  upset  him,  for  just 
then  he  was  feeling  above  all  trivialities.  "  I  haven't 
been  so  long  in  coming  as  your  sweetheart.  What  a 
face  !  What  a  face  to  be  sure  !  Go,  cover  up  the  milk  !  " 

"The  old  skin  has  come  back  full  of  bad  wine." 

"  Full  of  hunger  !  "  said  Ti'o  Patas,  turning  up  his  eyes 
and  patting  his  shallow  stomach,  "  and  even  if  it  were 
wine,  the  wine  is  old,  and  age  is  a  thing  to  be  respected, 
whether  in  wine  or  men." 

309 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

"Age  that  betters  parchment  and  good  wine  has  a 
bad  way  with  addled  eggs  !  "  snapped  Conchita,  throwing 
down  the  boots,  for  some  one  was  calling  her  in  the  patio. 

"  '  Addled  eggs  ! '  "  chuckled  Ti'o  Patas,  turning  to  his 
rice,  "/,  an  'addled  egg' !" 

But  gradually  the  saying  rankled,  for  he  was  fretful 
of  disposition. 

On  his  return  from  the  College  he  had  spent  another 
half-hour  in  the  Casualidad,  and  had  found  the  barber 
still  seated  there. 

Every  one  now  seemed  to  be  in  a  hurry,  and  this 
sorted  ill  with  the  tranquillity  to  which  he  had  been 
looking  forward. 

The  first  thing  that  happened  to  ruffle  him  was  the 
clearing  away  of  plates  and  knives  and  dishes  by  Maria 
under  his  very  eyes.  She  left  him  merely  the  basin  he 
was  eating  from,  and  forthwith  brought  a  bucket  of 
water  and  a  flannel  and  sluiced  the  table,  singing  very 
merrily,  and  leaving  him  but  a  circle  one  foot  in  diame- 
ter wherein  to  enjoy  his  meal. 

Next,  Susana  dashed  into  the  kitchen  with  a  pair  of 
curling  tongs,  slapped  them  into  one  of  the  Moorish 
candelas,  whipped  up  the  rush  fan,  and  commenced  to 
make  the  charcoal  glow,  her  other  hand  resting  upon 
her  hip. 

Then  she  snatched  them  out  again,  whisking  them 
about  in  mid-air  to  take  the  colour  out,  missing  the  nose 
of  Ti'o  Patas  by  a  single  inch  (which  made  him  jerk  his 
stool  back),  and  ran  away  laughing. 

The  last  thing  that  happened  was  that  Conchita  burst 
into  the  kitchen  like  a  whirlwind  and  made  for  the  table 
drawer,  whose  knob  was  exactly  central  with  the  ab- 
domen of  Tfo  Patas,  pulled  open  the  drawer  and  thrust 
her  arm  into  it,  raking  about  at  the  very  back  for  several 
minutes,  and  finally  producing  a  pair  of  scissors. 

310 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Matters  having  reached  this  crisis,  Tio  Patas  rose 
from  his  seat  with  a  snarl  like  an  angry  monkey,  and 
flinging  down  his  spoon  and  waving  his  hand  to  them 
to  take  it  all  away,  went  fuming  out  of  the  kitchen 
towards  the  stables. 

Maria  made  one  bounce  towards  his  basin,  snatched 
it  away  with  one  hand,  soused  the  coveted  dry  circle 
with  a  clout  she  held  in  the  other,  and  went  on  singing 
over  her  pots  and  pans. 

The  ladies  were  going  for  a  carriage  drive,  and  in 
those  days,  with  Carrasco  here,  there,  and  everywhere, 
it  was  better  to  face  the  afternoon  sun  than  to  be  on  a 
country  road  long  after  nightfall. 

At  half-past  three  the  carriage  was  ready. 

Not  only  was  her  carriage  awaiting  Carna  when  she 
came  to  the  door,  but  Juan,  all-expectant  and  mounted 
upon  his  Andalucian  horse,  had  arrived  that  moment 
by  the  merest  chance  in  the  world,  and  with  no  better 
excuse  than  to  ask  them  how  they  fared. 

This  being  so,  it  was  scarcely  to  be  wondered  at  that 
Juan's  way  coincided  with  their  own  for  some  distance 
along  the  high  road,  and  finally,  having  reached  the  out- 
skirts of  the  town,  it  was  too  late  to  keep  the  engage- 
ment he  had  had  in  view. 

"  I  think  I  had  better  ride  with  you  as  escort,"  he 
said  laughingly,  and  tapped  his  holsters. 

Gentlemen  of  Santa  Fe,  even  at  that  date,  seldom  rode 
abroad  with  empty  holsters,  and,  as  a  last  resource  in 
case  they  were  caught  dismounted,  there  were  many 
who  carried  a  Spanish  knife  tucked  inside  their  waist 
belt. 

In  the  carriage  rode  Carna,  with  a  yellow  rose  beside 
the  comb  that  held  her  hair,  and  black  silk  gossamer 
drooped  down  from  the  comb  on  to  either  shoulder.  A 
black  leather  girdle  encircled  her  little  waist,  and  below 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

the  girdle  came  an  upper  petticoat.  True  to  the  fashion 
of  those  times  also,  black  lace  fell  down  from  each 
shoulder  and  opened  out  fan-shape  over  her  elbows, 
whilst  her  bosom  was  scarce  hidden  by  a  network  of  red 
silk  cords. 

Dofta  Felipa  and  Susana  rode  with  her. 

A  summer  awning  of  canvas  had  been  spread  over 
the  carriage,  and  whenever  Juan  spoke  with  Carna  he 
had  to  lean  forward  on  his  horse  in  order  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  her. 

If  old  Ti'o  Patas,  when  he  climbed  up  into  his  seat, 
thought  his  young  mistress  was  charming,  what  must 
Juan  have  thought  as  he  leant  forward  in  his  saddle  and 
caught  spasmodic  glimpses  of  those  bewitching  eyes, 
and  the  lips,  with  their  Cupid's  bow,  half  parted  in  a 
smile  ? 

Carna  that  afternoon  was  all  vivacity ;  her  chatter 
was  incessant,  partly  perhaps  because  Juan's  horse  was 
restive,  and  it  amused  her  to  watch  his  efforts  to  reply. 
Many  times  he  would  be  in  the  midst  of  a  sentimental 
phrase  when  the  horse  plunged  suddenly  forward  or 
lagged  behind,  and  left  Carna  laughing  at  him  behind 
her  fan. 

The  Andaluza  is  only  happy  in  her  sweetheart  when 
she  is  either  laughing  at  him  or  crying  at  him,  for  so 
God  made  women  in  Andaluc/a. 

And  to  see  the  white  line  of  pearly  teeth  between 
those  pretty  lips,  the  dimples  coming  and  going  in  her 
cheeks,  and  the  love-light  turned  to  laughter  in  her 
eyes,  this  sight  was  worth  the  management  of  twenty 
such  troublesome  steeds ;  at  least  that  is  what  Juan  was 
thinking,  and  though  I  cannot  ride  I  think  the  same. 

An  hour's  driving  eastward  of  Santa  Fe  beyond  the 
pyramids  of  salt  brought  them  to  a  rocky  cliff  over- 
looking the  sea.  Not  a  very  high  cliff,  to  be  sure,  for 

312 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

a  waterway  which  had  been  cut  down  the  hillside  on 
their  left  continued  sloping  to  the  sea  upon  their  right 
at  such  an  incline  that  one  might  easily  walk  along 
after  scrambling  down  some  twenty  feet  of  boulders 
beside  the  bridge. 

On  the  bridge  they  halted,  for  here  was  a  famous 
vantage  point  whence  a  view  might  be  obtained  of 
tranquil  Santa  Fe,  with  its  towers  and  walls  empurpled 
by  the  distance. 

Then  Carna  had  a  caprice  to  walk  along  the  river  bed, 
and  she  was  so  persistent  that  Dona  Felipa,  after  regard- 
ing the  hazardous  descent  with  startled  eyes,  climbed 
back  into  the  carriage  and  bade  Susana  go  with  her. 
"  For  it  were  a  pity,"  said  she,  "  that  your  mistress 
should  break  her  neck  alone."  Now  Carna  stood  in 
no  danger  of  breaking  her  neck  alone,  as  Dofia  Felipa 
well  knew.  There  was  at  least  one  other  neck  anxious 
to  break  itself  on  her  behalf. 

So  the  carriage  drew  away  to  the  shadow  of  a  rock, 
and  Dofia  Felipa  waited  with  her  eyes  closed  for  screams 
of  anguish.  She  waited  so  long  in  this  condition  that 
she  fell  asleep. 

But  now  a  very  embarrassing  question  had  arisen. 
Carna  and  Susana  were  standing  upon  the  edge  of  the 
declivity,  viewing  the  river-bed  below.  Each  held  her 
skirts  gathered  round  her  ankles  in  obedience  to  that 
instinct  of  all  women  when  looking  down  a  cliff.  Once 
they  set  foot  upon  the  stones  down  yonder  in  the  bot- 
tom their  perplexities  would  cease,  but  ah !  the  twenty 
feet  of  slope  that  lay  between. 

So  what  must  Juan  do  but  take  Carna's  hand,  and 
this  seemed  very  strange  to  her,  but  still  she  had  the 
thought  to  go  down  first,  and  many  a  darting  lizard  fled 
away  when  those  small  buckled  shoes  of  polished  leather 
came  seeking  their  hold  among  the  herbs  and  stones. 

313 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

And  was  it  really  necessary  that  Juan  should  clasp 
her  hand  so  very  tight  ?  Perhaps  it  was,  yet  when  he 
returned  for  Susana  his  grip  was  not  so  firm. 

Having  reached  the  bottom  they  found  themselves 
upon  a  floor  of  natural  stepping  stones  worn  smooth  by 
the  winter's  flood,  and  in  between  these  stones  was 
trickling  a  lazy  thread  of  water,  greenish  blue  in  colour, 
and  no  wider  or  deeper  than  one's  hand.  Here  and 
there  grew  rushes,  and  along  the  red  walls  of  ironstone 
that  surrounded  them  were  burrowings  of  reptiles. 

To  the  lizards  Carna  was  indifferent,  for  they  were 
like  old  friends,  but  when  a  black  and  green  snake 
lifted  its  head  and  writhed  hissing  into  its  burrow,  she 
gave  a  low  cry  and  clenched  her  hands,  whereat  Juan 
held  her  by  the  arm  and  laughed  at  her.  Now  they 
moved  forward  towards  the  sea,  the  cutting  grew  deeper, 
and  presently,  when  they  rounded  a  slight  bend  in  the 
channel,  they  saw  the  blue  salt  water  in  front  of  them, 
bounded  by  the  ironstone  walls  to  left  and  right,  and 
meeting  the  sky  far  off  on  the  horizon.  From  the  sea 
rose  three  pinnacles,  one  large  and  blunt  with  herbs 
growing  on  its  summit,  the  others  smaller  and  more 
pointed,  naked  of  vegetation,  washed  over  by  the  sea 
and  looking  black  and  sullen,  as  though  they  would  fain 
wear  a  crown  of  green  stuff  like  their  neighbour. 

The  bed  of  the  stream  came  to  a  precipitous  end  in 
the  solid  rock,  and  the  fresh  water  fell  three  yards  or 
more  and  caused  a  ring  of  foam.  In  those  parts  the 
highest  tides  are  less  than  a  yard,  so  that  salt  water 
could  never  flow  back  along  the  channel,  though  storms 
might  cast  it  angrily  in  at  the  mouth  only  for  it  to  re- 
turn with  a  sullen  roar,  like  some  defeated  vanguard 
that  has  found  the  foe  entrenched.  July,  however,  was 
at  an  end,  and  the  Mediterranean  was  gentler  than  a 
lamb. 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Sometimes  a  handful  of  foam  would  rise  against  one 
of  the  black  pinnacles,  as  if  the  good-humoured  water 
were  teasing  it  with  a  kiss,  and  the  pinnacle  sulkily 
rebuffed  it  like  a  peevish  boy. 

In  the  sky  not  a  single  cloud,  nothing  but  monoto- 
nous blue.  Circling  round  the  rocks  were  sea-gulls. 

Carna  seated  herself  upon  a  boulder  close  by  the 
water  and  heaved  a  sigh ;  Juan  came  to  stand  beside 
her  and  found  the  sigh  infectious ;  whilst  Susana,  wan- 
dering out  of  earshot,  looked  to  east  and  west,  threw 
pebbles  at  the  water,  pebbles  at  the  lizards,  sat  down  by 
one  shrub,  got  up  and  sat  by  another,  yet  never  once 
paid  attention  to  Juan  and  Carna. 

Juan  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"In  the  carriage  you  were  very  talkative.  Now  you 
are  very  quiet." 

"  I  had  noticed  it  myself." 

"  What  a  beautiful  scene  around  us !  " 

Carna  looked  at  the  sea,  then  at  the  rocks,  then  at 
the  sky,  then  back  into  Juan's  eyes  and  laughed  at  him. 

"All  scenes,"  said  she,  "in  Andaluci'a  are  beautiful, 
this  in  particular.  I  have  climbed  down  here  before  with 
my  father,  and  that  is  why  I  brought  you." 

Juan  stood  silently  regarding  the  pinnacles  with  his 
elbows  on  the  rock  for  so  many  minutes  that  at  length 
it  was  Carna's  turn  to  complain. 

"  For  a  traveller  just  returned,"  said  she,  with  a 
suspicion  of  reproach,  "you  have  but  little  to  say  f.or 
yourself !  " 

"  Why,  how  can  I  talk  of  science  and  philosophy  to 
an  Andaluza,  and  such  an  Andaluza  as  you,  framed  in 
such  a  picture  ? " 

"  Now  you  are  going  to  talk  love  to  me  again  !  Can 
you  do  nothing  but  love  me  ? " 

"  Nothing !     Unless  it  be  to  adore  you !  " 
315 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  Don't  be  so  wearisome !  " 

"  Why,  what  would  you  have  me  do  ?  " 

"  Cannot  we  find  something  sensible  to  talk  about  ? " 

"Very  well;  you  choose  the  subject." 

"  As  who  should  say  that  I  have  mighty  little  to 
choose  from !  Well,  Seflor !  we  shall  see.  Begin  to 
catechise  me." 

Juan  laughed  and  caught  her  humour. 

"  Geography,"  said  he.     "  Where  is  Kamchatka  ? " 

"  What  a  name  !     Where  is  it  ? " 

"  In  Siberia.     Failed  in  geography !  " 

"  And  have  you  ever  been  there  ? " 

"  No,  never !  " 

"  Then  how  do  you  know  it  is  in  China  ?  Tell  me 
where  is  the  fountain  of  Nuestra  Sefiora  del  Carmen  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"In  the  suburb  of  La  Trinidad.  Failed  in  geog- 
raphy! "  Carna  laughed  merrily  and  clapped  her  hands. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Juan.  "  Complete  failure  of  both 
competitors  in  geography  !  Now  we  come  to  history. 
Who  was  Charlemagne  ?  " 

Carna  shook  her  head  and  pursed  her  lips. 

"  Who  was  Zacchaeus  ?  "  she  asked  suddenly,  leaning 
forward.  But  Juan  was  very  much  in  the  same  position 
as  Zacchaeus.  Ever  so  slight  a  shadow  passed  across 
the  eyes  of  Carna  when  he  confessed  that  he  did  .not 
know. 

"  Zacchaeus,"  said  Carna  presently,  gazing  towards 
the  horizon  and  looking  very  serious,  "  was  the  little 
man  who  climbed  into  a  fig  tree  to  see  our  Lord  come 
by.  Did  you  not  know  ?  " 

"  I  had  forgotten." 

Carna  toyed  with  a  handful  of  rushes  that  she  had 
gathered  near  the  bridge,  plaited  them  together,  undid 
them  and  plaited  them  again. 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

At  their  feet  the  blue  water  lazily  heaved  and  fell, 
and  fish  came  to  play  with  the  jet  that  poured  from  the 
rock,  swimming  round  and  round  it  and  darting  under  it. 

Farther  out  to  sea  the  porpoises  were  playing,  and 
beyond  the  porpoises  were  graceful  faluchas  toiling  on 
the  deep,  their  triangular  sails  no  larger  than  a  gnat's 
wing  in  the  distance. 

In  the  west  the  sun  was  nearing  the  hills  beyond 
Santa  Fe  and  all  was  perfect  peace  —  the  silence  be- 
fore sunset.  For  the  short  southern  twilight  was  about 
to  gallop  past,  a  thing  of  ten  minutes,  the  sun's  flying 
rearguard  pursued  by  the  shadows  of  the  mountains. 
Juan  leant  upon  the  rock  and  looked  eagerly  at  Carna. 
His  eyes  were  filled  with  passion,  and  the  young  girl, 
in  waywardness,  refused  to  meet  them,  and  turned  to 
gaze  seaward  from  between  her  half -closed  lashes,  gradu- 
ally sweeping  along  the  horizon  until  she  could  just  dimly 
see  him. 

"  Carna !  " 

"  Why,  the  sun  has  set !  " 

"  The  sun  has  turned  away  from  me." 

"  The  faluchas  surely  are  fishing  in  pairs." 

"  Turn  your  face  to  me." 

He  caught  her  little  hand  between  his  own  and  moved 
her  so  that  she  needs  must  look  at  him,  and  then  she  took 
refuge  behind  her  fan,  whereat  he  imprisoned  the  other 
wrist,  and  discovered  a  pair  of  lips  and  dimples  that  were 
laughing  at  him,  two  eyebrows  that  were  doing  their  best 
to  frown,  and  two  eyes  that  were  all  love  and  sympathy 
and  mischief.  Reflected  in  her  eyes  he  could  see  the  dis- 
tant horizon,  the  faluchas  like  tiny  points  of  white,  the 
sky  and  rocks,  even  to  the  sea-gulls  that  swept  round  the 
pinnacles. 

"  I  wonder  if  the  faluchas  are  catching  much  ? " 

"  I  neither  know  nor  care !  " 
317 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  You  are  polite  !  " 

"  I  am  in  love !  " 

"  That  is  just  the  trouble  of  it !  " 

"  Why  ? " 

"  A  woman  can  be  so  happy  without  proclaiming  every 
hour  that  she  is  in  love,  without  ever  declaring  it  at  all. 
A  man  must  needs  say  so,  and  insist  upon  the  woman's 
answering.  I  wonder  why  it  should  be  so  ? " 

"  And  are  you  happy  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.  You  will  not  give  me  a  moment  to 
consider.  Besides,  that  is  another  example  of  what  I 
say.  Why  must  I  so  roundly  answer  you  ?  Men  have 
no  appreciation  for  the  implied  or  the  discreetly  veiled. 
They  only  become  fretful  when  they  are  left  to  make 
deductions  about  a  woman's  sentiments.  Do  you  not 
remember  the  Eve  of  St.  John  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  reason,"  said  Juan,  looking  at  his  arm. 

"  Yes,  because  you  have  a  scar  upon  your  arm  you 
think  you  have  a  reason.  Well,  Sefior !  that  was  not 
the  only  wound  that  happened  upon  that  day!  " 

Juan  pretended  to  look  puzzled.  Carna  laughed  at 
him,  and,  looking  into  his  eyes  she  sang  that  verse 
which  Susana  had  been  singing  in  the  orchard,  only  one 
little  month  ago,  just  for  its  sweet  memories  — 

"  Keep  this  golden  orange  ever, 

From  my  orchard  gathered  new. 
Knife  of  steel  it  may  not  sever 
Or  my  heart  you  cut  in  two." 

Juan  turned  his  head,  observed  that  Susana  was  out 
of  sight  behind  a  bend  in  the  narrow  channel,  then 
slowly  drew  Carna's  arms  towards  him. 

Carna's  feet  were  off  the  ground,  and  so  she  was  help- 
less to  save  herself  from  sliding  off  the  boulder  at  the 
imminent  risk  of  disclosing  two  yellow  silk  stockings. 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Her  only  safety  lay  in  trusting  to  Juan's  support,  yet 
his  hands  were  steadily  receding. 

"Juan!    Juan!  " 

"  Carna !  " 

Though  Juan's  arms  drew  backward,  his  face  remained 
just  where  it  was  before,  so  that  Carna's  lips  came  pres- 
ently towards  his  own  and  brushed  them.  The  lovers 
kissed,  and  in  that  brief  moment  Juan  saw  that  the  gates 
of  Paradise  were  dark,  with  a  silken  fringe,  and  whilst 
he  gazed  at  Paradise  the  world  stood  still. 

Then  Carna,  tingling  with  shame  and  happiness,  re- 
covered herself,  and  leaning  upon  her  left  hand  traced 
circles  in  the  rock  with  the  end  of  her  closed  fan,  whilst 
Juan,  drawing  a  long  breath,  stood  looking  up  at  her 
with  his  eyes  aglow. 

"  To-morrow  then  I  may  announce  it  at  the  tertulia?" 
said  Juan. 

"  Why  in  such  haste  ?  " 

"  j  Preciosa !  Until  I  proclaim  it  I  am  like  San  Lo- 
renzo upon  the  gridiron !  " 

"  I  thank  you  for  the  simile !  A  moment  ago  I  could 
have  sworn  your  case  was  not  so  pitiful,  though  sure 
enough  hot  cinders  were  in  it  too.  Help  me  down, 
good  Lorenzo,  for  it  is  not  safe  to  leave  the  wool  by  the 
fire." 

"  Nay !  "  said  Juan,  holding  her  two  little  wrists  in 
one  of  his  strong  hands.  "  Tell  me  first,  on  Friday  you 
are  going  to  the  fair  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Senor !  And  to  service  at  the  chapel.  It  is 
the  Transfiguration  of  our  Lord,  and  the  '  Name  of 
Jesus.'  Will  you  not  come  ?  " 

"I  shall  not  be  able." 

Once  more  a  slight  shadow  passed  across  Carna's  face. 
She  had  only  once  seen  him  at  church,  and  then  —  as  an 
idle  sight-seer)  in  Salamanca. 

319 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  And  why,  sir,  pray  ?  " 

"Now  it  is  your  turn  to  be  inquisitive.  At  what  hour 
do  you  return?" 

"  It  depends  upon  many  things.  Perhaps  at  nine. 
Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  If  I  told  you,  you  could  not  keep  the  secret." 

"  It  takes  twenty  women  to  keep  a  secret.  One  poor 
woman  could  not  do  so  much  alone." 

"  Well,  I  will  sell  you  my  secret  for  another  kiss." 

"  j  Seflor !  There  are  no  more  kisses  to-night.  The 
one  I  gave  you  seemed  to  pain  you  very  much,  and  it 
is  the  last,  for  it  were  a  pity  you  should  grow  to  like 
them  less." 

"  That  should  I  never  !  " 

"  Aye !  Do  they  not  say  that  of  kisses  and  soup  the 
first  is  always  the  best  ?  " 

"  I  will  keep  my  secret  until  you  pay  me  for  it." 

"  It  will  grow  so  stale  that  you  will  throw  it  from 
you.  Men  part  more  easily  with  a  secret  for  not  being 
asked  than  women  do  for  asking.  Look,  Juan,  how 
the  great  sun  has  fallen  behind  the  sierras,  and  has 
covered  the  Cathedral  of  Santa  Fe  with  red-hot  gold, 
and  marked  a  red  pathway,  too,  across  the  water." 

Juan  came  close  to  her,  and  she  leant  her  cheek 
lightly  against  his  shoulder  and  clasped  his  arm,  gazing 
towards  the  west. 

"  Why  is  it,"  asked  Carna  presently,  "  that  the  path 
only  reaches  halfway  across  the  water  towards  us  ? 
Look  at  the  dark  waves  in  between ! " 

"  It  is  because  we  are  standing  so  high  above  the  sur- 
face," said  Juan,  after  thinking  for  a  moment. 

"  j  Ea !  A  man's  explanation  !  Look  at  it  again. 
Do  you  not  see  that  before  us  lies  a  path  of  golden 
glory,  yet  to  reach  it  one  must  plunge  through  the  dark 
waves  of  unknown  futurity  here  below  ?  " 

320 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Juan  leant  his  face  upon  his  hand  and  gazed  at  the 
relentless  black  ridge  of  earth  behind  Santa  Fe  as  it 
ate  up  the  last  morsel  of  the  sun.  Where  he  had  gone 
down  copper-coloured  clouds  were  hovering,  tinged  with 
yellow  and  gold. 

Slowly  the  gold  died  out,  a  dull,  sullen  blood-colour 
overcame  the  brighter  tints,  the  blood-colour  grew 
fainter,  merged  into  gray  and  black,  the  pathway  across 
the  sea  became  a  slightly  perceptible  brownish  glow, 
the  stars  came  out  triumphantly,  relieved  of  the  sun's 
majestic  presence,  and  Nature  was  asleep.  And  Juan 
was  thinking  that  woman's  way  of  regarding  things  was 
better  far  than  man's,  and  wherefore  seek  plain  Truth, 
since  plain  she  be  ? 

Carna's  head  still  nestled  against  his  shoulder,  her 
bosom  heaved  placidly  with  a  loving  contentment  too 
great  to  be  spoken,  her  right  hand  was  in  his. 

They  turned  to  look  round  the  dark  horizon  on  their 
left,  where  night  had  blotted  out  the  sails,  the  por- 
poises, and  everything.  In  front  of  them  three  dusky 
pinnacles  could  just  be  seen  against  the  blue-black  sky, 
at  their  feet  the  jet  of  water  still  gushed  into  the  ocean 
with  a  sort  of  slow  rhythm,  caused  by  the  measured 
heaving  of  the  swell,  which  now  shortened,  now  length- 
ened its  path  to  meet  the  surface. 

"  j  Senorita  !  " 

Susana  was  coming  towards  them.  Her  voice  echoed 
and  re-echoed  along  the  walls  of  the  water-course. 

"  j  Senorita  !  " 

Carna  gently  released  her  hand  with  a  sigh,  slid 
down  from  the  boulder,  and  answered  Susana. 

"  j  Senorita !  Dona  Felipa  is  calling  us  from  the 
bridge." 

"  Go  before  us,"  said  Juan,  "  and  call  to  her  that  we 
are  coming  now  at  once." 

Y  321 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

To  gain  the  bridge  more  quickly  and  more  safely, 
Juan  placed  his  arm  round  Carna's  waist,  and  halfway 
along  the  channel,  with  Dofia  Felipa's  voice  already 
audible,  they  paused  and  turned  towards  each  other 
with  one  accord,  and  clasped  in  each  other's  arms,  they 
vowed  once  more,  with  low  and  tremulous  voices,  that 
come  what  might,  for  all  eternity,  nothing  should  come 
between  them,  then  walked  the  remainder  of  the  way  in 
silence,  hand  in  hand,  until  they  neared  the  bridge. 

That  night  Carna,  her  lamp  put  out,  her  balcony 
window  open  to  let  in  the  summer  moonlight,  knelt 
fervently  before  her  crucifix,  head  bowed,  hands  crossed 
upon  her  bosom. 

At  first  her  spirit  was  bathed  in  silvery  joy,  joy  that 
seemed  to  float  downward  through  her  window  and 
kissed  her  bowed  head,  an  all-pervading  contentment 
she  could  not  explain,  for  it  was  the  first  time  Carna 
had  loved,  and  her  love  was  boundless  as  the  ocean 
that  was  whispering  beyond  the  orchard.  Her  face 
was  towards  the  window  and  the  light ;  the  crucifix 
therefore  was  hidden  in  the  shadows,  dimly  visible  in 
the  reflection  from  the  opposite  wall  and  from  Carna's 
white  robe  and  face.  Presently  she  became  conscious 
of  something  strange.  The  Saviour  above  her  in  the 
shadows  was  strangely  silent.  In  any  other  mood  her 
mind  could  not  have  accepted  so  biassed  a  conception, 
her  common  sense  would  have  swept  it  on  one  side. 

Yet  to-night  her  vision  was  far-focussed,  and  passed 
beyond  all  worldly  logic  into  a  realm  of  different 
government. 

And  the  Saviour  seemed  strangely  silent. 

Then  her  conscience  grew  troubled,  and  she  asked 
herself  why  this  thing  should  be  ?  Why  should  He  be 
sad  ?  In  what  had  she  displeased  Him  ? 

The  idea  grew  stronger,  became  irresistible,  would 
322 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

not  be  driven  away.  Turning  her  eyes  upwards 
towards  the  crucifix  and  clasping  her  hands,  Carna  saw 
His  eyes  bent  upon  her  in  loving,  pathetic  reproach. 

Then  she  seemed  to  understand. 

Stretching  her  arms  out  on  either  side,  her  lips  moved, 
then  with  a  long-drawn  sigh  she  began  to  whisper  to 
Him,  and  as  she  went  on  her  emotion  became  more 
poignant.  Her  bosom,  bared  to  the  night  breeze  that 
stirred  the  leaves  in  her  balcony,  heaved  with  the  ful- 
ness of  her  heart,  and  presently  two  tears  came  falling 
down  upon  her  simple  night-linen  where  it  lay  open 
around  her  shoulders. 

Carna's  eyes  were  seeing  things  in  other  worlds  ; 
her  sense  of  hearing  alike  was  transcendental.  She  was 
listening,  when  she  had  finished  praying,  to  swelling 
music  that  floated  down  to  her  from  afar,  a  Divine  la- 
ment, sung  in  a  voice  too  lovely  and  too  pathetic  for 
human  understanding,  a  hymn  yet  a  serenata,  a  romance 
yet  a  solemn  dirge,  a  cadence  of  unutterable  grief  for 
that  which  is  lost  for  ever. 

"Not  so!  O  my  Redeemer!"  cried  Carna,  "for 
Thee  is  my  poor  heart  ever  the  same ! " 

Her  eyes  beamed  upon  the  crucifix  in  the  shadows 
with  a  light  of  infinite  love. 

After  a  little  while  the  image  seemed  to  her  less 
jealous  and  reproachful.  It  called  her  with  its  eyes  ; 
she  rose  and  lovingly  kissed  the  ivory  feet ;  her  dark 
hair  fell  around  the  crucifix  and  against  the  wall ;  her 
lashes  drooped  and  closed  with  passionate  love ;  her 
white  arms  were  held  aloft,  palms  upwards,  in  sign  of 
womanly  submission,  and  there  was  a  trembling  in  her 
throat. 

Presently  from  a  little  cupboard  she  took  two  candles 
in  two  small  sconces.  These  she  hung  upon  either  side 
of  the  crucifix,  using  the  nails  that  had  served  on  Holy 

323 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Fridays  for  the  crosses  of  the  two  thieves.  Next  she 
lighted  the  candles,  and,  falling  upon  her  knees,  stead- 
fastly regarded  the  crucifix  once  again. 

Ah,  no !  He  had  forgiven !  On  His  face  was  the 
smile  of  love  and  forgiveness,  even  for  those  who  had 
driven  the  nails  through  His  sides  and  through  His  feet. 

"  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they 
do ! "  His  face  seemed  to  wear  less  of  agony  and 
more  of  contentment  in  the  flickering  light  from  the 
candles  on  either  side ;  nay !  Carna  even  thought  there 
was  something  of  gratitude  in  the  look  that  He  bent 
upon  her.  So  different,  oh,  so  different  from  the  ex- 
pression of  sadness  and  reproach  that  His  face  had 
worn  in  the  shadows ! 

At  length  a  feeling  of  calm  contentment  possessed 
her.  She  lay  down  upon  her  bed,  leaving  the  candles 
to  burn  out  in  their  sockets  as  a  tribute  to  the  Saviour. 
Sometimes  the  breeze  would  rustle  the  vine  leaves 
round  her  balcony,  and  would  brush  back  the  flames 
of  the  candles,  making  them  flare  and  smoke.  Then 
onwards  to  her  bedside,  where  it  would  gently  caress 
her  hair,  playing  with  the  stray  locks  around  her  fore- 
head. Her  arms  were  wide  open  upon  her  pillows ; 
she  fell  asleep  with  her  eyes  turned  towards  the  crucifix, 
and  a  loving  smile  on  her  parted  lips.  In  her  dreams 
two  dear  faces  were  intermingled,  one  of  heaven  and  one 
of  earth,  yet  both  were  one.  All  was  peaceful ;  the 
whispering  of  the  sea  along  the  shore  only  made 
the  moonlit  silence  more  pronounced. 

#*#**»#* 

When  Juan  parted  with  Carna,  and  kissed  her  little 
gloved  hand,  it  was  already  late  for  dinner.  Yet  in- 
stead of  hurrying  back,  he  rode  swiftly  through  Santa 
Fe,  clattered  across  the  square  and  past  the  bull-ring, 
and  made  for  the  open  road. 

324 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

His  pulse  was  feverish ;  he  felt  that  he  could  not  sit 
down  at  any  meal  table,  and  he  had  taken  it  into  his 
head  to  gallop  along  through  Cinco  Caminos  to  the 
Guadalote,  to  find  the  spot  where  she  had  stood  that 
night  when  she  had  christened  him,  and  —  who  knows  ? 
—  to  fling  himself  from  his  horse  and  kiss  the  ground. 

"  Cada  vez  que  paso  y  miro 
los  sitios  acostumbrados, 
me  arrodillo  y  los  venero 
como  si  fiieran  sagrados." 

"Each  time  that  I  pass  by  and  look  upon  the  well- 
known  spot,  I  fall  upon  my  knees  and  worship  it  as 
though  'twere  sacred."  The  mad  unreasoning  love  of 
Andalucia  had  mastered  him,  in  all  its  extravagance, 
its  fierceness,  and  its  jealousy. 

Had  not  his  father  turned  from  the  studying  of  his 
breviary  only  to  find  a  pair  of  woman's  eyes  bent  upon 
him  ? 

Never  so  fierce  a  lover  as  Juan  in  this  moment,  with 
blood  coursing  through  his  veins  at  fever-heat,  with 
flashing  eyes  and  thumb  pressed  tight  on  rein  as  he 
galloped  through  Cinco  Caminos  and  flew  past  the 
Fonda  del  Trini.  This  is  no  ground,  Don  Luis  Gonza- 
lez, in  which  to  sow  the  wind,  though  you  were  General 
of  Division  instead  of  Captain  of  Civil  Guards ! 

On  his  return  from  the  river  he  slackened  pace  a 
little  and  passed  through  Cinco  Caminos  at  a  trot. 
The  villagers  were  walking  up  and  down  in  the  moon- 
light, and  many  people  were  in  their  balconies. 

In  one  balcony  was  Don  Pedro  Gutierrez,  the  Re- 
publican agitator  from  Salamanca,  who  called  to  him. 
Juan  reined  up,  chatted  awhile,  and,  rising  in  his 
stirrups,  took  from  Don  Pedro  a  cigarette.  When  he 
had  lighted  it,  he  waved  his  hand  to  the  Republican, 

325 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

shook  his  reins  upon  the  horse's  neck,  and  turned 
towards  Santa  Fe.  But  halfway  down  the  village 
he  met  the  priest,  the  Alcalde,  and  the  schoolmaster. 
The  priest  made  a  sign  to  him  to  stop,  and  bidding 
good  night  to  the  Alcalde  and  the  schoolmaster,  said 
to  Juan  very  meaningly  — 

"  My  son,  I  pray  you  dismount  and  come  upstairs 
with  me  awhile,  for  I  have  something  of  importance 
to  say  to  you." 

To  explain  this  strange  interruption  I  must  go  back 
a  few  hours,  and,  with  your  leave,  I  will  commence 
another  chapter. 


326 


CHAPTER   XIX 

This  chapter,  not  being  of  a  romantic 

nature,  has 

Not  deserved  a  motto,  and  shows  amongst 

other  things 

Of  some  importance,  how  the  barber  went  to 

bed  without 

Shaving,  and  the  priest  without  saying 

his  prayers. 

WHEN  Tio  Patas,  on  his  way  back  from  the  College 
that  afternoon,  called  at  the  tavern  La  Casual- 
idad  the  barber  was  still  there.  The  wine  being  in, 
and  the  wit  being  out,  Tio  Patas  told  the  barber  in 
blear-eyed  confidence  that  there  was  "  like  to  be  more 
fire-spitting  between  El  Chopo  and  the  Jesuits  than 
there  was  in  the  devil's  kitchen  when  the  cook  wrote 
a  cross  on  the  pancakes." 

The  barber  bore  the  weight  of  this  secret  for  nearly 
half  an  hour,  then,  meeting  the  priest  at  the  cross-ways, 
pulled  him  into  the  shade,  and  in  a  voice  such  as  one 
uses  at  the  confessional  told  him  that  El  Chopo  had 
fallen  out  with  the  Jesuits,  and  it  was  as  much  as 
people  could  do  to  keep  them  from  murdering  one 
another.  The  priest  took  snuff  at  this  news,  and  dur- 
ing the  afternoon  he  turned  the  matter  over  in  his 
mind  as  he  went  from  house  to  house.  He  visited 
some  hungry  villagers,  comforted  them  after  his  poor 
fashion,  threw  bad  logic  at  a  drunkard,  and  fell  little 
short  of  weeping  with  a  mother  who  had  lost  her  first- 
born. For  the  priest  was  growing  old. 

327 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

His  six  fried  sprats  and  six  ounces  of  boiled  chickpeas 
were  spread  upon  the  board  when  he  came  home,  and 
having  washed  down  this  feast  with  the  last  few  drops 
of  bad  red  wine  from  his  corner  cupboard,  he  clapped 
his  hands  loudly  and  sat  thoughtfully  looking  towards 
the  door. 

A  gasping  blear-eyed  old  crone  climbed  up  the  narrow 
stairs. 

"The  coffee?"  said  the  priest.  The  old  woman 
looked  surprised. 

"  That  was  yesterday,"  she  said.  • 

"  Ah,  true,  true !  "  replied  the  priest.  "  To-day  is 
Monday.  Give  me  my  hat."  And  moodily  he  went 
downstairs  and  sauntered  along  the  street  towards  the 
barber's. 

Already  there  were  four  or  five  people  there,  namely, 
the  schoolmaster,  the  mayor  (or  Alcalde),  the  "  notary  " 
of  a  fishing  boat,  the  deaf-and-dumb  cobbler,  and  the 
blacksmith.  I  did  not  include  the  barber,  because 
nobody  took  any  notice  of  him.  He  was  seated  beside 
the  door  upon  a  stool,  and  looked  very  meekly  at  each 
one  as  he  spoke,  though  (barber-like)  his  glance  always 
rested  upon  their  stubble  rather  than  upon  their  eyes. 

"  j  Seftores  !  "  said  the  priest,  bowing  in  the  doorway. 

"  Come  with  God ! "  replied  the  company,  and  made 
room  for  him  upon  the  bench  between  the  mayor  and 
the  notary. 

The  schoolmaster  sat  down  in  the  operating  chair  but 
facing  the  company,  and  reflectively  stroked  his  hand 
over  three  days'  growth  of  beard.  The  barber  rose 
from  his  stool  and  came  towards  him,  but  the  school- 
master waved  him  off.  The  barber  sat  down  upon  his 
stool  with  a  sigh  and  folded  his  arms  again.  Financially 
it  was  all  one  to  him. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  priest,  after  drawing  one  or 
328 


THE   PAGAN    AT   THE   SHRINE 

two  whiffs  from  his  cigarette  in  silence,  "  I  have  an  in- 
teresting question  to  put  before  you,  a  question  whose 
consideration  has  caused  me  no  little  thought,  and  finally 
has  impelled  me  to  seek  your  much-esteemed  opinion, 
for  in  the  multitude  of  councillors  there  is  wisdom." 

The  barber  rose  from  his  stool,  as  though  urged  by 
some  impulse,  then,  toppling  the  stool  over  with  his  heel, 
turned  back  in  confusion,  set  it  upon  its  legs  and  resumed 
his  seat  upon  it,  clearing  his  throat  and  looking  out  at  the 
doorway. 

"  Now  what,"  asked  the  priest  a  little  peevishly, "  what 
may  that  mean  ?  " 

"  Nothing !  "  said  the  barber,  clearing  his  throat  again. 

The  priest  threw  up  his  arms  and  let  them  fall  upon 
his  lap,  shrugging  his  shoulders  in  despair. 

"  We  demand  to  know  what  that  means,"  said  the 
schoolmaster  firmly.  He  had  attained  the  habit  of 
command. 

"  Well,"  replied  the  barber,  trying  to  chuckle  amiably, 
with  some  half-dozen  stony  faces  turned  towards  him, 
"  I  thought  that  —  in  fact  when  the  good  Padre  remarked 
that  —  gentlemen,  I  spend  one  real  and  a  half  every 
night  upon  the  oil-lamp,  and  I  thought  that  as  light  is 
not  so  necessary  for  discussions  as  it  is  for  shaving, 
I  might  perhaps  lower  it  the  least  little  — 

"  Stop  !  "  said  the  priest  peremptorily,  holding  up  his 
hand.  The  barber  stopped  with  his  mouth  wide  open. 

"  Put  out  the  light ! " 

"Oh,  as  for  that  now — "  began  the  barber  in  a 
deprecating  manner. 

"  Put  it  out !  Right  out !  At  once !  "  The  priest 
spoke  sternly  and  pointed  to  the  lamp. 

The  barber  crept  guiltily  towards  it  and  blew  it  out. 
The  priest  then  lowered  his  arm,  and  fumbling  in  his 
pockets  made  remark  — 

329 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  Note,  gentlemen,  what  says  our  friend  the  barber  ? 
'  Light  is  not  so  necessary  for  discussions  as  it  is  for 
shaving !  '  Is  it  not  indeed  ?  Search  the  writings  of 
St.  Paul-,  and  you  shall  find  that  light  is  the  condition 
above  all  others  that  he  considers  necessary.  Remember, 
my  good  friend,  that  the  immortal  spirit  is  cultivated  by 
discussion,  whereas  the  hair  —  why,  we  all  of  us  here 
will  be  bald  in  a  hundred  years.  And  now,  that  you 
may  see  how  the  saints  protest  against  such  discourteous 
treatment  and  such  illiterate  remarks,  St.  Antony 
himself  shall  lend  a  light  to  this  discussion." 

The  priest  was  seen  by  the  rays  of  the  moon  to  rise 
from  his  chair.  He  set  two  small  white  objects  upon 
the  shaving  table,  kindled  a  spill,  and  lighted  them. 

"Those,"  said  he,  "are  the  halves  of  two  candles 
which  last  night  were  burning  before  the  image  of  San 
Antonio.  To-morrow  night  they  were  to  have  burnt 
themselves  out  before  the  image  of  San  Lorenzo. 
Mark,  wretched  man,  what  you  have  done." 

The  schoolmaster  looked  volumes  at  the  barber,  who 
shrank  aghast  into  the  shadow  of  the  door  and  held  his 
peace. 

The  company  then  turned  expectantly  towards  the 
priest,  who  smoked  for  two  or  three  minutes  without 
speaking,  and,  regaining  his  composure,  spoke  thus  — 

"  The  question  that  I  have  to  put  before  you  for  dis- 
cussion is  this.  At  what  age  may  a  young  man  be  said 
to  have  reached  ' years  of  discretion  '  ?  " 

A  sigh  went  round  the  company.  The  mayor  shook 
his  head  and  slapped  his  knee,  the  notary  pursed  his 
lips,  the  schoolmaster  looked  reflective,  and  the  black- 
smith, touching  the  cobbler  upon  the  arm,  begged  the 
loan  of  his  tobacco  box  to  make  a  cigarette. 

A  slight  breeze  blowing  in  made  the  candles  flicker, 
and  catching  the  priest's  bald  head  —  for  he  was  per- 

330 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

spiring  and  had  taken  off  his  hat  —  he  sneezed  violently 
once  or  twice. 

"  j  Jesus,  Maria,  y  Jose"  !  "  cried  the  company  in  chorus, 
thus  frightening  away  the  devil. 

"  Thanks,  friends !  "  said  the  priest,  wiping  his  nose. 

The  schoolmaster  pressed  his  finger-tips  together  and 
put  his  head  on  one  side. 

"In  order,"  said  he,  "that  we  may  ascertain  what  is 
the  '  age  of  discretion,'  we  must  first  assure  ourselves  of 
the  meaning  of  '  discretion.'  " 

The  mayor  and  the  notary  each  made  a  gesture  of 
assent. 

"Ah!  What  is  discretion  ?"  asked  the  blacksmith, 
shaking  his  head  at  the  cobbler's  tobacco  as  he  rolled  his 
cigarette. 

"  What  is  discretion  ?  "  continued  the  schoolmaster. 
4(  That  is  the  point,  and  a  very  knotty  point  it  is.  Let 
us  deal  with  the  enemy  strategically.  Let  us  go  round 
about  him." 

He  paused  to  think  a  moment,  looked  up  at  the  ceil- 
ing and  down  again,  then,  waving  his  hand  towards  the 
mayor  — 

"  With  what,"  he  demanded,  "  would  you  judge  the 
guilt  or  innocence  of  a  prisoner  ?  " 

"  With  what  ?  "  returned  the  Alcalde  with  conscious 
pride;  "why,  'tis  a  knack  that  comes  to  one.  A  man 
is  brought  before  you  for  passing  base  coin,  swears 
by  all  the  saints  in  heaven  that  he  never  handled 
it,  looks  red  in  the  face,  his  hand  trembles.  Guilty ! 

"  A  man  is  brought  before  you  for  picking  pockets, 
dares  not  to  utter  you  a  word,  stands  stock-still  and 
stares  at  you,  ashen  as  a  ghost.  Guilty ! 

"  A  man  is  brought  before  you  for  forgery.  '  Sign 
me  this,'  you  say,  tossing  him  a  paper  (no  matter  what). 
*  I  cannot,'  says  he,  all  gasping.  Guilty ! 

331 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  Or,  maybe  he  falls  into  the  trap,  puts  pen  to 
paper  and  shows  that  he  can  write,  so  proving 
clearly  —  " 

"  But  the  priest  and  I  are  forgers  then  ?  "  cried  the 
schoolmaster,  interrupting  him. 

"Why  so,  friend?" 

"We  both  know  how  to  write." 

"  Aye ! "  returned  the  Alcalde,  with  the  knowing  smile 
of  one  who  sees  clearly  another's  stumbling-block, 
"but  I  know  you  wouldn't  forge." 

The  schoolmaster  coughed,  and  returning  to  the 
main  issue  said  — 

"The  conclusion  you  come  to  in  each  and  every 
case  springs  from  a  certain  quality  that  you  possess  — 
discretion." 

"  j  Jesus !  "  exclaimed  the  Alcalde,  "  so  it  does." 

And  everybody  looked  astonished  at  this  simple 
discovery,  saving  the  cobbler,  who  could  not  hear,  and 
the  barber,  who  had  fallen  asleep.  The  latter  was 
sitting  in  the  doorway  just  under  the  eaves,  where  the 
lizards  were  scampering  to  and  fro. 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  continued  the  schoolmaster  tri- 
umphantly, shaking  his  forefinger  at  them  and 
warming  to  his  subject,  "we  have  only  just  begun. 
We  have  only  cited  one  little  instance  of  the  quality 
known  as  discretion,  which  —  all  unsuspected  —  is  an 
essential  factor  in  every  action  of  our  lives.  With 
what  —  to  take  a  primitive  application  —  with  what 
does  a  man  sweeten  his  coffee  ?  " 

"With  sugar,"  said  every  one  but  the  priest,  who 
smoked  on  placidly  and  eyed  the  schoolmaster  with  his 
lids  half  closed  together. 

"  Yes  and  no,"  resumed  the  schoolmaster.  "  '  Yes,' 
because  sugar  is  a  necessary  element  in  the  process ; 
'no,'  because  sugar  is  only  half  the  battle.  For  the 

332 


proper  sweetening  of  my  coffee,  gentlemen,  I  need  a 
mixture  of  sugar  and  discretion" 

"  So  you  do,"  said  the  Alcalde,  looking  round. 

"Discretion,"  continued  the  schoolmaster,  "is  the 
mother  of  all  virtue.  It  is  the  salt  which  is  necessary  in 
every  counsel,  and  even  wit,  without  discretion,  is  a  sword 
in  the  hands  of  a  fool.  The  mighty  of  the  land  have 
need  of  it,  for  the  discreet  man  measures  his  will  against 
his  power.  A  certain  Roman  courtier  used  to  say  that 
in  order  to  be  discreet  a  man  must  have  passed  through 
three  experiences  :  first,  he  must  have  been  in  love  and 
jilted ;  second,  he  must  have  had  a  difficult  lawsuit ; 
third,  he  must  have  had  a  quarrel  with  a  valiant  man." 

"Ha!  ha!"  laughed  the  Alcalde,  rubbing  his  hands. 
"No  wonder  I  am  so  discreet.  Yet  these  conditions 
cannot  apply  to  our  reverend  priest." 

The  priest,  thus  taken  by  surprise,  bowed  with  some 
little  confusion,  raised  his  great  eyebrows,  and  smiled. 

"  All  things  are  possible  with  the  consent  of  God," 
said  he.  "  And,  alas !  your  poor  shepherd  has  known 
all  three  of  these  conditions,  and  comes  off  worst  in  all. 
But  you  interrupt  our  worthy  scholar,  who  was  dis- 
secting this  matter  with  no  little  skill.  Heed  him 
well,  for  even  as  there  is  no  good  pottage  without 
bacon,  and  no  good  sermon  without  St.  Augustin,  so 
there  is  no  good  argument  without  a  schoolmaster." 

The  schoolmaster  bowed  in  his  turn,  and,  flourishing 
his  arm,  resumed  — 

"  Moreover,  our  Alcalde  should  know  that  even  had 
a  priest  no  experience  of  his  own,  such  a  deluge  thereof 
is  poured  into  his  ear  at  the  confessional  that  he  makes 
early  acquaintance  with  the  three  '  muches '  which  ruin 
brave  men  and  pretty  women,  to  wit :  to  talk  much  and 
know  little,  to  spend  much  and  have  little,  and  to  pre- 
sume much  and  be  of  little  worth." 

333 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

The  Alcalde  winced  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

" '  In  dry  breeches  one  cannot  fish  for  trout,'  "  laughed 
the  notary. 

"  Nay  !  "  said  the  schoolmaster,  holding  up  his  finger, 
"  I  speak  to  all  in  general,  but  I  wish  it  not  to  be  said 
of  me,  '  His  comrades  liked  him  but  poorly,  because 
he  told  them  the  truth.'  And,  after  all,  a  man  cannot 
be  a  very  great  fool  unless  he  know  Latin.  But,  to 
arrive  at  a  conclusion,  let  us  take  one  or  two  instances 
of  discretion. 

"  You  meet  a  friend  whose  brother  was  hanged  only 
yesterday.  You  speak  to  that  friend  of  the  sun,  moon, 
and  stars,  of  the  weather,  the  war,  the  earthquakes,  the 
corn,  the  vines,  aye  !  anything,  except  —  ropes  !  What 
is  this  ?  Discretion ! 

"Passing  a  neighbour's  window  you  notice  that  a 
stranger  is  secretly  whispering  with  his  wife.  You 
pretend  not  to  have  noticed  it.  Discretion  ! 

"  You  look  up  at  the  sky  and  perceive  it  overcast 
with  clouds.  You  —  " 

"  Stop !  "  cried  the  blacksmith,  flinging  off  his  cap. 
Then,  when  they  all  turned  round  to  look  at  him,  he 
vigorously  scratched  his  head. 

"  Whilst  I  remember  it,"  said  he,  "  it  flashed  across 
me  that  discretion  is  nearly  always  a  —  a  —  " 

"  What  ?  " 

"  Why  —  not  so  much  a  doing  of  anything,  but  always 
a  not  doing  of  something  else." 

The  priest  and  the  schoolmaster  smiled  and  looked 
at  one  another.  At  length  the  former  spoke  — 

"  In  the  multitude  of  counsellors  there  is  wisdom  ! 
The  blacksmith  has  hit  upon  a  quality  of  discretion 
which,  for  my  part,  seems  to  distinguish  it  from  all 
other  forms  of  wisdom." 

"Aye!"  rejoined  the  schoolmaster,  "you  speak  the 
334 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

truth.  Discretion,  more  often  than  not,  is  the  holding 
oneself  from  temptation  to  do  or  speak  a  foolish  thing ! 
There  be  sins  of  commission  and  sins  of  omission. 
Now,  to  omit  a  commission  of  this  sort,  is  it  not  a  good 
deed  in  itself?  " 

"  Of  course,"  cried  everybody,  even  more  puzzled 
than  the  schoolmaster  himself  as  to  where  this  argu- 
ment would  land  them. 

"And  it  is  discretion.  But  to  commit  an  omission, 
why,  there  —  I  think  —  " 

The  schoolmaster  smiled  and  looked  round  at  them, 
fondling  his  chin. 

"  Better  still !  "  blurted  out  the  Alcalde. 

"  Nay ! "  said  the  priest,  frowning,  and  shaking  his 
great  forefinger  at  the  Alcalde,  "  to  commit  an  omission 
is  a  foul  fault." 

"  Aye  !  So  it  is !  "  said  the  Alcalde,  shaking  his 
head,  and  casting  down  his  eyes  at  the  remembrance 
of  certain  tithes  that  were  only  twentieths. 

The  schoolmaster  cleared  his  throat,  and,  majesti- 
cally waving  his  right  arm,  had  already  opened  his 
mouth  to  speak,  when  one  of  the  candles  went  out 
with  this  gust  of  coming  eloquence. 

He  turned  his  head  to  look  at  it  and  meanwhile 
the  priest  spoke  thus  — 

"These  things  I  partly  knew  already.  Discretion, 
in  a  way,  is  modesty.  What  says  our  Alcalde  ?  Dis- 
cretion, moreover,  controls  one's  actions  and  restrains 
one  from  doing  wrong.  Which  again  is  nothing  more 
nor  less  than  the  principle  already  discussed  of  'one 
pin  for  your  purse  and  two  for  your  mouth.'  For  a 
fool  is  as  soon  shot  of  his  money  as  his  opinions,  but 
with  this  difference,  that  money  may  sometimes  be 
recovered,  whereas  an  ill  word  is  a  bolt  that  nobody 
can  regain,  and  there  is  no  cure  for  it.  Discreet  men 

335 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

have  their  mouths  in  their  hearts,  fools  their  hearts 
in  their  mouths." 

"  Aye,"  said  the  blacksmith,  "  he  who  said  nothing 
had  the  better  of  it,  and  had  what  he  desired." 

"  Still,  gentlemen,"  continued  the  priest,  "  I  confess 
that  I  hardly  yet  see  any  clear  definition  of  what  is  an 
'age  of  discretion.'" 

The  schoolmaster  sighed,  and,  looking  up  thought- 
fully at  the  dark  ceiling  across  whose  chestnut  beams 
the  lizards  were  disporting,  plunged  his  right  hand 
into  the  recesses  of  his  pocket. 

Eventually  he  pulled  out  a  dog-eared  book,  whose 
Scarred  leather  binding  threatened  to  break  asunder 
in  half  a  dozen  places. 

"This,"  said  he,  "is  a  Latin  dictionary,  and  for 
years  it  has  been  my  daily  friend  and  comforter,  nay, 
even  my  weapon  and  defender.  Its  properties  as  an 
oracle  are  not  less  marked  than  its  powers  as  a  pro- 
jectile. I  have  found  it  a  far-reaching  argument  with 
the  young  and  with  the  old.  Let  us  see  if  it  serves  us 
on  the  present  occasion." 

With  that  he  drew  near  to  the  candle,  and,  thought- 
fully turning  over  the  pages,  at  last  pressed  his  finger 
upon  a  certain  passage  in  the  book  and  frowned  atten- 
tively. The  priest  strode  across  the  shop  and  stood 
looking  over  his  shoulder. 

"  Making  allowances,"  said  the  schoolmaster,  "  for 
the  patch  which  covers  the  letters  S — E — P — (for 
there  never  yet  was  treacle  in  my  house  but  the  chil- 
dren took  to  reading  all  my  books  and  playing  on  my 
flute)  —  you  will  see  that  discretion  is  — 

" '  A  separating ;  a  parting  ;  a  dividing.'  " 

"  Ha !  "  said  the  priest,  "  you  are  right." 
And  a  light  seemed  to  dawn  upon  him. 
336 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"This,"  he  continued,  "is  almost  like  a  supernatu- 
ral sign.  It  is  a  most  clear  indication.  '  A  separa- 
ting, a  parting,  a  dividing.'  Lord !  Why,  it  could  not 
well  be  clearer." 

"  I  do  not  follow  you,"  said  the  schoolmaster. 

"  A  certain  person  who  has  at  last  '  separated, 
parted,  and  divided '  himself  from  a  certain  sect  or 
company.  Why,  man,  it  could  not  be  clearer !  " 

The  priest  enlarged  upon  this  view,  and  the  discus- 
sion proceeded  upon  these  lines  for  some  little  time, 
for  one  of  the  candles  was  much  longer  than  the 
other  ;  but  candles,  like  men,  burn  out  at  last.  Soon 
after  midnight  the  barber,  waking  up  with  a  start  (for 
a  clammy  cold  lizard  had  fallen  down  his  back),  saw 
half  a  dozen  great  patches  of  saliva  upon  his  door- 
step, and,  shuffling  into  his  shop  with  many  yawns  and 
sneezes,  shook  his  head  mournfully,  saying  to  himself  : 
"  If  only  there  lay  as  many  hairs  upon  my  floor  as  wise 
and  witty  sayings  I  were  a  rich  man.  Lord  !  Lord  !  To 
think  that  here  have  I  been  shaving  chins  and  clipping 
pates  without  any  discretion  at  all  for  twenty  years ! 
Talking  for  a  good  hour  all  about  the  virtue  of  not 
opening  their  mouths,  and  discreetly  leaving  their  pay- 
ment on  the  doorstep !  " 

The  barber  then  shot  the  bolt,  took  off  certain  of 
his  garments,  grabbed  the  lizard  with  a  triumphant 
chuckle,  threw  him  out  of  the  window,  and  went  to 

bed. 

******** 

Meanwhile  the  priest,  the  Alcalde,  and  the  school- 
master were  sauntering  down  the  village  arm-in-arm 
by  the  light  of  the  waning  moon. 

A  gentle  breeze  flapped  the  drooping  leaves  of  the 
banana  trees  down  by  the  beach,  and  their  shadows 
swam  to  and  fro  like  ghostly  sole  and  skate,  hovering 
z  337 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

over  the  sleeping  donkeys  that  lay  at  the  fishermen's 
doors. 

The  three  companions  had  not  even  yet  exhausted 
their  subject. 

"The  greatest  use  of  discretion,  however,"  the 
schoolmaster  was  saying,  "  is  to  know  when  to  be  con- 
tented, and  to  enjoy  what  little  one  has  while  the  fool 
is  hunting  for  more." 

"  However  little  it  may  be,"  said  the  priest  sadly. 

"  Even  though  it  be  only  a  little  moonshine,"  sighed 
the  schoolmaster. 

"And  there  is  much  virtue  in  moonshine,"  said  the 
priest,  "  for  it  costs  nothing  and  saves  one  many  a 
candle.  But  who  comes  here?" 

"  Why,  it  is  our  fisher-boy,"  said  the  schoolmaster. 

"  And  waving  his  hand  to  Don  Pedro,"  added  the 
priest. 

"  He  sits  well  in  the  saddle,"  said  the  Alcalde,  "  and 
what  a  fine  figure  of  a  man !  He  would  make  a  brave 
dragoon." 

As  Juan  came  nearer,  the  priest  seemed  to  give  way 
to  some  impulse,  for  he  held  up  his  hand  to  the  rider 
and  strode  towards  him. 

It  was  then  that  the  priest  addressed  him  in  the 
manner  referred  to  in  our  previous  chapter,  and  Juan, 
having  dismounted  with  some  surprise,  followed  the 
good  man  to  his  house,  tied  his  horse's  rein  to  the  bars 
of  the  low  window,  and,  leaving  him  stamping  upon 
the  cobbles,  climbed  upstairs. 

"  My  son,"  said  the  priest,  panting  somewhat,  and 
with  a  hand  on  either  knee  as  the  two  sat  opposite  each 
other  in  the  balcony,  "  my  son,  I  am  fast  coming  to  the 
conclusion  that  you  have  reached  an  age  of  discretion." 

At  this  strange  remark  Juan  opened  his  eyes  very 
wide,  and  could  not  suppress  a  smile. 

338 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

"  An  age  of  discretion  !  "  continued  the  priest,  gradu- 
ally getting  back  his  breath.  "  My  reasons  for  think- 
ing so  —  why,  they  are  neither  here  nor  there ;  I  know 
what  I  know,  and,  praise  be  to  God,  I  still  have  the 
full  use  of  my  five  senses.  That  a  time  would  come 
when  you  must  either  find  yourself  a  longer  spoon,  or 
go  to  sup  elsewhere,  I  knew  full  well.  And  now  to  the 
point.  They  say  you  are  like  to  get  married  very 
soon  ? " 

"  It  is  not  a  published  fact,"  replied  Juan,  laughing ; 
"  still,  let  it  pass." 

"And  matrimony,  my  son,  though  it  be  a  holy  in- 
stitution well  loved  of  God,  yet  here  below  it  is  some- 
times like  a  market,  where  many  go  for  wool  and  come 
back  shorn.  You  are  one  of  my  flock,  and  I  could  have 
wished  to  see  you  seeking  a  ewe  in  somewhat  cleaner 
pastures ;  still  God's  will  be  done,  and  perhaps  she  has 
time  to  mend.  But  I  will  not  go  round  about  with  you, 
I  am  an  old  ox,  and  the  older  the  ox  the  straighter  the 
furrow." 

"  Aye !     That's  very  true,"  said  Juan  patiently. 

"  Not  but  what  I  was  going  to  have  added,"  said  the 
priest,  "  that  the  linnet,  who  kept  company  with  the 
crows,  in  time  began  to  caw ;  but  I  see  that  you  do  not 
follow  me,  and  indeed  I  am  the  last  one  to  put  my  nose 
into  other  people's  business." 

The  priest,  thus  reminded  of  his  nose,  filled  it  with 
snuff,  and  sneezed  so  heartily  that  his  bald  head  fell 
below  the  level  of  his  elbows  which  pointed  upwards, 
this  giving  one  the  idea  of  a  mosque  with  two  minarets, 
the  shining  silver  dome  lying  in  between. 

"And  now,"  said  he,  recovering,  "we  will  go  straight 
to  the  point,  for  where  there's  a  king's  highway  an 
honest  man  never  takes  the  by-path.  When  your 
mother  died  (and  these  lips  prayed  her  out  of  purga- 

339 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

tory,    without   ever   asking    this    hand   who   paid    the 
reckoning),  she  left  in  my  keeping  a  sealed  casket." 

The  priest  rubbed  his  hands  on  his  knees  and  looked 
hard  at  Juan  for  signs  of  curiosity,  nor  was  he  disap- 
pointed. 

"  A  sealed  casket !  "  repeated  the  priest.  "  To  be 
given  to  you  when  you  reached  'an  age  of  discretion.'  " 

"  Where  is  it  ? "  asked  Juan. 

"  The  discretion,"  sighed  the  priest,  "  is,  alas  !  invisi- 
ble, but  I  trust  that  it  lies  inside  you.  As  for  the  casket, 
it  is  here." 

With  that  he  rose  from  his  chair  and  lighted  a  dismal 
oil-lamp,  for  the  moonshine  at  that  hour  was  upon  the 
opposite  balconies  and  the  only  light  was  reflected  from 
the  whitewashed  house  fronts. 

He  then  went  to  a  corner  cupboard,  one  of  the  few 
pieces  of  furniture  in  the  poor  room,  took  out  a  casket 
which  he  looked  at  lingeringly,  as  though  almost  grudg- 
ing to  yield  the  dear  mystery  of  many  years,  and  came 
towards  the  balcony  with  the  casket  in  his  arms. 

From  the  darkened  balcony  of  the  Alcalde's  house 
alongside,  a  pair  of  inquisitive  eyes  were  watching  these 
proceedings,  for  that  place  in  the  Alcalde's  cranium 
where  should  have  dwelt  intelligence  was  given  over  to 
curiosity.  The  priest,  however,  looking  from  the  light 
into  the  dark,  could  not  see  the  Alcalde,  neither  could 
Juan. 

"  Since  you  are  to  be  married  so  soon,"  said  the  priest, 
"  whatever  secret  this  box  contains,  you  had  better  know 
beforehand." 

He  then  gave  the  casket  to  Juan  and  sat  down  beside 
him,  folding  his  arms. 

Juan  looked  at  the  casket  awhile  with  emotion  and 
curiosity,  then  took  out  his  knife,  broke  the  seal,  and 
wrenched  open  the  lid. 

340 


THE   PAGAN    AT   THE   SHRINE 

First  he  lifted  out  a  ball  of  crumpled  paper  weighing 
somewhat  heavily.  When  it  came  undone,  out  rolled 
an  ounce  of  gold.  The  priest  looked  at  the  fallen  paper 
and  comprehended  that  the  woman  had  muffled  it  thus 
in  order  that  it  might  not  rattle  and  awake  his  cupidity. 

He  smiled  somewhat  bitterly. 

Then  Juan  took  out  a  small  ebony  crucifix  which  he 
turned  round  and  round  and  examined  with  close  atten- 
tion. He  handed  it  to  the  priest,  who  was  already 
eying  the  golden  ounce  and  holding  it  to  the  light, 
wondering  how  the  poor  wretch  could  have  managed  to 
save  it,  and  how  she  could  have  resisted  spending  it  on 
bare  necessities  of  life. 

Lastly  Juan  took  a  folded  letter  from  the  bottom  of 
the  casket,  opened  it,  pored  over  it,  read  it  from  end  to 
end,  looked  at  the  priest  with  a  puzzled  frown  on  his 
forehead,  back  at  the  letter,  and  read  it  all  through 
again. 

The  strange  part  about  it  was  that  the  more  Juan 
read  it,  the  more  puzzled  grew  his  expression. 

The  priest  became  deeply  interested.  He  leant  for- 
ward in  his  chair  with  his  hand  half  extended  in  antici- 
pation of  the  moment  when  Juan  should  pass  him 
the  document.  This  slight  movement  recalled  Juan's 
thoughts.  He  looked  at  the  priest  for  a  moment,  half 
reached  towards  him  with  the  letter,  then,  with  a  sudden 
impulse,  drew  back  his  hand. 

Finally  he  folded  the  letter  and  placed  it  in  his 
pocket  case. 

"This,"  said  he,  "appears  to  be  very  confidential." 

Nothing  would  persuade  Juan  to  be  communicative. 
He  remained  with  his  host  what  time  courtesy  demanded, 
talked  of  his  dead  mother,  the  golden  ounce,  the  cruci- 
fix. But  each  time  that  they  came  to  the  letter  he 
merely  grew  abstracted. 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Las  dnimas  were  sounding  when  he  bade  the  priest 
good-bye,  and,  untying  his  horse  from  the  bars  of  the 
window,  climbed  moodily  into  his  saddle  and  trotted 
away  in  the  direction  of  Santa  Fe  without  ever  looking 
behind  him. 

"  If  I  were  a  curious  man,"  muttered  the  priest,  who 
was  leaning  over  his  balcony,  "  it  might  vex  me  to  have 
nursed  a  secret  for  nearly  twenty  years  and  then  to  be 
thus  flouted  of  it,  like  a  man  who  should  lay  by  a  bottle 
of  good  wine  and  one  day  his  servant  mistakes  it  for 
bad  vinegar ;  but  as  I  am  only  a  poor  village  priest,  I 
may  not  even  be  curious.  Therefore,  God  go  with  you, 
young  man,  though  'tis  hard  sometimes  to  say  God, 
when  one  means  otherwise,  and  the  saints  bear  up  your 
horse's  feet  that  he  may  not  stumble  and  toss  you  into 
a  ditch,  which  were  a  pity;  and  lest  my  old  tongue 
stumble  in  saying  my  paternoster,  I  will  go  to  bed  this 
night  without  my  prayers,  though,  God  knows,  'tis  the 
first  time  in  nearly  half  a  century." 


342 


CHAPTER   XX 

Dogberry.  "One  word  more,  honest  neighbours.  I  pray  you, 
watch  about  Signior  Leonato's  door  ;  for  the  wedding  being  there 
to-morrow,  there  is  a  great  coil  to-night.  Adieu  :  be  vigilant,  I 
beseech  you." 

Much  Ado  About  Nothing. 

THE  barracks  of  the  Civil  Guard  had  a  low  arch- 
way which  led  from  the  highway  to  the  quad- 
rangle at  the  back.  On  the  right-hand  side  of  this 
entrance  was  a  sentry-box,  behind  it  the  barred  window 
of  the  guard-room.  On  the  left-hand  side  was  another 
barred  window  shaded  by  an  acacia,  and  this  latter  win- 
dow corresponded  to  the  office  of  the  captain  on  duty. 

One  afternoon  Don  Luis  Gonzalez  sat  cross-legged 
in  a  rocking-chair  and  yawning  with  all  his  might,  his 
eyes  turning  every  now  and  then  towards  an  old  clock 
with  long  hanging  weights,  which  announced  that  in 
fifteen  minutes  he  might  expect  to  be  relieved. 

He  was  weary  of  looking  round  the  room,  weary  of 
looking  out  of  the  window,  but  as  he  must  needs  do  one 
or  the  other  he  lazily  watched  the  by-passers,  beating 
the  devil's  tattoo  upon  the  arms  of  the  rocking-chair 
with  the  sheathed  sword  that  lay  across  his  lap. 

Tio  Patas  had  been  up  in  the  town  with  a  basket 
on  his  arm,  and  on  his  way  home  past  the  barracks 
his  old  ferret  eyes  saw  Don  Luis  lolling  in  his  rocking- 
chair. 

The  old  man  drew  near  to  the  window,  and  the 
Guardsman,  with  his  hands  behind  his  back,  came  slowly 

343 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

towards    him,    nodded    his   head   condescendingly    and 
asked  — of  the  world  in  general  — how  things  progressed. 

"jAja!  Don  Luis,  we  are  getting  along  very  well, 
marvellously  well !  "  said  Ti'o  Patas. 

"  Are  we  so  ?     Where  is  Don  Jack-a-napes  to-day  ?  " 

The  old  man  grinned  and  stroked  his  stubbly  chin. 

"  Where  is  he  not,  Don  Luis  ?  j  Caracoles !  He  has 
been  with  my  lady  all  the  afternoon,  cuddling  her  down 
yonder  by  the  pinnacles,  helping  her  up  the  hill  and 
down  the  hill,  tying  up  her  shoestrings,  leaning  over 
the  side  of  her  carriage,  and  kissing  her  hand." 

"  And  that  is  what  you  call  '  getting  along  mar- 
vellously well ' !  "  said  Don  Luis,  with  a  sullen  sneer. 

"  That  is  where  the  other  man  is  getting  along  so 
well.  Now  we  come  to  the  part  where  we  are  flourish- 
ing, Don  Luis,  and  thereby  hangs  a  tale." 

The  old  man  put  down  his  basket  on  the  cobbles, 
drew  a  red  handkerchief  out  of  his  hat  and  wiped  his 
forehead,  looked  up  the  street  and  down  the  street  and 
leered  very  knowingly,  but  allowed  the  Guardsman  to 
chafe  himself  into  a  fever  of  impatience. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Don  Luis. 

"  Well ! "  repeated  Ti'o  Patas,  holding  his  hat  ex- 
tended in  his  left  hand  and  throwing  in  the  rolled-up 
handkerchief  very  plumply  with  his  right,  "  and  where 
will  Don  Jack-a-napes  be  before  the  moon  has  waned  ? 
Answer  me  that,  my  gallant  captain ! " 

Don  Luis  looked  down  at  him  angrily  and  contemptu- 
ously with  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

"  I  say,"  continued  Tfo  Patas,  coming  close  to  the 
window  grating  and  holding  on  with  both  hands, 
"  where  would  he  be  if  I  were  not  here  to  help  you  ? " 

"Well,  where  would  he  be?"  repeated  the  other. 

"  In  my  lady's  bedchamber,"  said  Ti'o  Patas  after  a 
pause. 

344 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

The  Guardsman  took  a  step  forward  and  his  hands 
sprang  out  of  his  pockets,  his  jealous  eyes  were  aflame, 
he  looked  as  though  he  were  suffocating  with  anger. 
Ti'o  Patas  drew  back  from  the  barred  window  and 
cackled  gleefully. 

"  j  Cabron  !  "  roared  the  captain,  regardless  of  the 
sentry  who  stood  within  earshot.  "  Thank  the  bars 
that  I  do  not  screw  your  neck.  How  may  an  animal 
such  as  you  either  cause  or  prevent  such  happenings  ? 
Cursed  be  the  day  that  I  so  far  forgot  myself  as  to 
speak  to  you  of  such  things !  " 

The  old  man  returned  to  the  reja  and  tried  to  appear 
offended.  His  nose  wore  an  aspect  of  dignity. 

" '  Wounds  heal  up,  but  ill  words  canker,'  Don  Luis. 
Since  when  have  I  deserved  such  reviling  at  your 
hands  ?  Remain  with  God,  and  shift  for  yourself  as 
best  you  may  !  " 

With  that  he  made  towards  the  basket  muttering 
indignation. 

"  Stay  !  "  cried  the  Guardsman,  "  Let  me  hear  you 
out!"  ' 

"There  is  no  need,"  answered  Ti'o  Patas,  pausing 
with  the  basket  on  his  arm ;  "  I  have  no  taste  for  spend- 
ing further  money  on  your  business." 

"  Spending  money  ?  " 

" '  Spending  money,'  says  he,"  murmured  Ti'o  Patas, 
addressing  Heaven  with  uplifted  arm ;  "  and  he  thinks 
forsooth  that  I  can  keep  three  serving-maids  busy 
listening  for  me,  and  half  Cinco  Caminos  on  the  watch, 
and  all  for  love  of  my  handsomeness,  save  the  mark  !  " 

The  face  of  Ti'o  Patas  looked  so  handsome  that  the 
captain  was  half  convinced. 

"  So,"  said  he,  putting  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  and 
taking  out  something  that  rustled,  "  that  is  your 
tale." 

345 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

"  Aye !  That  is  my  tale  !  "  replied  Tio  Patas  im- 
movable as  waxwork. 

"Take  this." 

The  old  man  put  out  his  hand  and  took  the  note.  It 
acted  upon  him  like  the  smell  of  blood  upon  the  panther. 
In  a  moment  he  was  hanging  on  to  the  reja  again  all 
eagerness,  and  speaking  quickly. 

"  Don  Luis,  as  I  hope  for  mercy,  I  have  sown  such 
seed  as  might  split  a  rock  in  twain  when  it  starts  to 
spring." 

"  How  ? " 

"The  Jesuits!  I  have  shown  Padre  Martinez  that 
our  young  fisherman  is  the  head  and  front  of  the  agita- 
tion in  Santa  Fe." 

"Thedevifl" 

"  I  have  proved  it  to  him,  almost  but  not  quite.  The 
Padre  was  as  clay  in  my  fingers,  I  moulded  him  and 
turned  him  about  —  so  —  he !  he !  he  !  To-night  I  will 
hammer  down  the  rivet.  It  wants  but  little.  What 
think  you,  Don  Luis,  hey  ?  What  think  you  ? " 

"  If  this  be  true,  you  are  Satan  himself." 

Tio  Patas  accepted  the  compliment  with  great  relish, 
then  went  on  — 

"  But  whatever  is  to  be  done  must  be  done  quickly, 
for  I  have  it  in  my  mind  that  his  uncle,  the  Rector,  will 
be  back  anon." 

"  Can  I  do  nothing  ?  "  asked  the  Guardsman. 

"  Nothing !     Leave  it  to  me  !  —  Stay  !  " 

Tfo  Patas  thought  awhile. 

"  You  have  not  the  diplomacy  that  lies  here,  young 
man,"  said  Tio  Patas  at  length,  tapping  his  own  fore- 
head with  his  forefinger  and  sighing  very  deeply,  "or 
you  would  not  have  spoken  to  me  as  you  did  a  moment 
ago."  (He  fingered  the  note  in  his  pocket.)  "  Never- 
theless, you  may  do  —  something." 

346 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Ti'o  Patas  made  a  disparaging  gesture  and  said 
"  something  "  almost  with  contempt. 

Don  Luis  glowered  at  him  and  swallowed  his  anger. 
He  felt  that  the  old  man,  by  some  chance  or  other,  had 
hit  upon  the  way,  and  held  his  tongue. 

"  You  may  do  this,  my  captain,"  said  Ti'o  Patas,  in  an 
admonishing  tone,  looking  at  the  Guardsman  with  his 
head  on  one  side  and  his  forefinger  marking  time ;  "  you 
may  convey  to  Padre  Martinez,  with  great  care  —  mind 
you,  with  greatest  care  —  and  in  a  careless  devilish 
spirit,  that  so  well  becomes  you,  as  who  should  say,  '  It 
matters  not  a  hang,'  laughing  a  saucy  laugh  and  clap- 
ping your  hand  on  your  hilt  and  twirling  your  mous- 
tache, you  may  convey  that  you  know  this  young  man 
to  be  a  public  agitator  and  a  rank  Republican." 

Don  Luis  laughed,  for  he  felt  a  little  foolish.  To  hide 
his  shame  he  took  to  condescension,  which  became  him 
worse  still,  for  he  was  plainly  annoyed,  yet  afraid  to 
miss  the  opportunity.  So  he  bit  his  moustache,  and 
told  Ti'o  Patas  that  he  was  a  mighty  cunning  fellow, 
and  stood  very  well  in  his  opinion. 

"  A  thousand  thanks  !  "  said  Tfo  Patas  with  a  leer. 
"And  the  day  you  marry  Dofia  Carna,  what  shall  be 
my  reward  ?  " 

"A  thousand  dollars,"  said  Don  Luis,  and  meant  it. 

With  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders  the  old  man  turned  to 
go.  The  Guardsman  looked  again  at  the  clock.  He 
was  bound  for  his  cousin's  tertulia. 

At  the  top  of  the  side  road  leading  down  to  Carna' s 
house  and  the  sea  beyond  was  a  boundary  stone  worn 
greasy  by  beggars  and  muleteers. 

On  this  stone  sat  Tfo  Patas  and  leant  his  chin  upon 
his  hand  as  though  to  rest  awhile.  Yet  it  was  strange 
that  his  legs  should  have  failed  him  so  near  to  home. 

Jose  Ramos  came  by  with  Dofia  Mar/a  Lopez  upon 
347 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

his  arm.  Her  two  daughters  followed,  tittering  to  each 
other,  and  all  of  them  made  towards  the  house  of  Carna 
Gonzalez. 

Juan,  who  came  afterwards,  went  in  the  same  direc- 
tion, and  so  did  several  others. 

Presently  a  "  diavala  "  drove  up.  Somebody  inside 
touched  the  driver  upon  the  arm  and  the  vehicle  came 
to  a  standstill. 

Padre  Martinez  got  down,  dismissed  the  driver, 
watched  him  turn  round,  and  swept  towards  Ti'o  Patas, 
holding  up  his  gown  from  the  dusty  road. 

"  Good  evening,  friend  !  " 

"  Good  evening,  Padre  !  "  said  Ti'o  Patas,  rising  to  his 
feet  and  taking  off  his  hat.  The  Jesuit  paused  a  mo- 
ment and  fixed  his  eager  black  eyes  upon  the  old  man's 
face  in  silence.  It  was  not  his  custom  openly  to  seek 
information.  But  his  eyes  said  a  great  deal,  and, 
with  this  advantage,  they  might  never  be  cited  in 
evidence. 

"  Last  night,"  said  Ti'o  Patas,  speaking  with  his  best 
grace  and  holding  his  hat  in  his  hand,  "  our  young 
Anarchist  was  in  Cinco  Caminos.  He  visited  two 
houses.  One  was  the  house  of  Don  Pedro  Gutierrez, 
the  Republican  agitator,  the  other  the  house  of  the 
priest." 

"  How  long  was  he  inside  the  house  of  Don  Pedro  ?  " 

"  He  only  sat  under  the  balcony  upon  his  horse." 

Tfo  Patas  had  looked  into  the  Jesuit's  eye  and  real- 
ized that  the  question  had  an  object.  So  he  played  for 
safety  and  told  the  truth. 

Padre  Martinez  knew  from  other  sources  that  Juan 
had  remained  outside. 

"  Go  on  with  your  story  !     What  happened  ?  " 

"  Don  Pedro  smuggled  a  paper  into  his  hand." 

"  Ha !  " 

348 


THE   PAGAN   AT    THE   SHRINE 

("With  tobacco  inside  it,"  thought  Tfo  Patas.  But 
he  did  not  say  so.) 

"  He  then  went  to  the  house  of  the  village  priest. 
We  have  incurred  the  enmity  of  the  priest  —  he  hates  us." 

"  I  know  it.     Go  on  !  " 

"  From  one  of  the  houses  alongside  they  were  seen 
with  their  heads  together,  poring  over  the  same  paper 
that  Don  Pedro  had  handed  from  the  balcony." 

"  And  you  identified  this  document  at  a  distance,  and 
by  candle-light.  What  eyes,  my  friend,  what  eyes  !  " 

"  At  a  distance  of  six  feet  this  document  was  iden- 
tified," said  Tio  Patas  without  flinching.  "  It  was 
noted  from  the  adjacent  balcony  where  lives  my  friend 
the  Alcalde,  by  the  simple  process  of  looking  over  the 
young  man's  shoulder  in  the  lamplight." 

"  How  then  was  it  identified  ?  By  its  title  and 
superscription  ?  Had  the  Alcalde  a  telescope,  my 
friend  ?  " 

"  No,  he  was  not  close  enough  to  see  the  writing. 
But  he  saw  on  the  envelope  and  on  the  paper  a  glitter- 
ing golden  mark  like  this  —  " 

And  Tio  Patas,  not  knowing  that  a  fleur  de  lys  was 
called  a  fleur  de  lys,  stooped  down  and  sketched  one  in 
the  dust  with  his  forefinger. 

"This  same  glittering  speck  was  not  so  difficult  to 
see  from  two  yards'  distance,  and  it  was  seen  upon  the 
letter  that  Don  Pedro  Gutierrez  handed  from  his  bal- 
cony," said  Tfo  Patas,  rising  and  looking  into  the 
priest's  face  with  the  greatest  coolness,  for  he  felt  that 
it  was  no  use  lying  unless  he  did  it  well,  and  the  part 
of  his  lie  that  was  the  truth  inspired  him  with  much 
confidence. 

For  fully  thirty  seconds  the  two  men  stood  gazing 
into  each  other's  eyes,  Tio  Patas  searching  •  for  sus- 
picion, Padre  Martinez  searching  for  the  truth. 

349 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

The  priest  understood  that  nothing  more  was  forth- 
coming. 

"Your  story,"  said  he  at  length,  "sounds  very  fan- 
ciful. I  am  far  from  being  convinced.  Nevertheless 
—  for  fear  that  it  contain  some  grain  of  truth  —  this 
night  and  henceforth  let  his  every  movement  be 
watched.  Do  you  hear  me  ?  " 

"  Aye !  "  replied  Tio  Patas. 

"And,  if  you  are  deceiving  me,"  went  on  Padre 
Martinez,  "  why  —  it  shall  not  serve  for  long,  and  when 
the  truth  comes  out,  my  friend  — 

With  an  ominous  frown  the  priest  turned  round  and 
went  upon  his  way. 

Tio  Patas  watched  him  with  a  smile. 

Then  he  raised  his  arms  aloft  and  addressing  the 
empty  air,  "  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  wagging  his  head, 
"  we  are  on  the  way  to  fame  and  fortune.  Watch  me 
twist  these  fools  around  these  fingers !  '  Little  by 
little  the  housewife  weaves  the  net.'  But  when  it  is 
woven,  gentlemen,  when  it  is  woven,  the  golden  harvest 
that  the  net  brings  in  !  Ah-h-h-h  !  " 

The  last  sound  was  something  between  a  rumbling 
in  the  throat,  a  sigh,  and  a  cry  of  exultation.  The  old 
man  held  his  arms  downwards  and  looked  hungrily 
upon  his  upturned  palms,  and  as  he  drew  them  in 
towards  him  slowly,  quivering,  the  clawed  fingers 
seemed  to  him  to  scoop  up  a  myriad  of  golden  wriggling 
fish,  some  of  which  slipped  between  his  fingers,  others 
leaped  over  on  either  side. 

Meanwhile  from  the  open  windows  of  Dofla  Carna's 
house  came  sounds  of  music  and  merrymaking. 

By  the  time  that  Don  Luis  arrived  there  were  more 
than  twenty  people,  old  and  young,  in  the  long  recep- 
tion-room that  opened  on  the  patio. 

This  room  was  simply  furnished.  Over  the  mirrors 
350 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

and  the  glass  cupboard-doors  were  curtains  of  rose- 
coloured  muslin  to  keep  the  flies  and  wasps  off,  and  a 
long  fly-trap  hung  from  one  of  the  four  great  beams  of 
black  chestnut  that  supported  the  yellow  ochre  ceiling. 
In  the  middle  of  the  long  wall  which  faced  the  two 
windows  stood  a  harpsichord,  memento  of  Carna's 
mother.  When  one  propped  up  the  lid  one  read  this 
inscription  in  great  letters  of  red  and  gold  — 

"  Sic  transit  gloria  mundi." 

Above  this  "  piano  "  were  a  pair  of  barbed  darts  or 
banderillas  with  the  gaudy  pink  and  green  paper  frills 
all  stained  a  deep  chocolate  by  blood,  the  rusty  hooks 
being  covered  by  dry  blood  and  sand.  These  had  been 
placed  on  the  wall  by  Don  Ramon  and  were  the  first 
pair  of  banderillas,  stuck  into  the  fifth  bull  by  Pepe- 
Hillo  on  the  Holy  Friday  that  he  fought  at  Santa  Fe. 

Dofta  Carna,  though  she  disliked  the  look  of  them, 
would  not  remove  what  her  dead  father's  hands  had 
fastened  there. 

Opposite  each  window  was  a  very  gorgeous  painting : 
Abraham  going  to  sacrifice  Isaac  to  the  left,  Cain  slay- 
ing Abel  on  the  right. 

The  Spaniards  say  of  pictures  that  "  A  bad  Christ 
needs  much  blood,"  and  this  applied  to  both  paintings 
in  a  marvellous  degree. 

Between  the  windows  Adam  and  Eve  were  being 
turned  out  of  Paradise,  and  here,  again,  the  flaming 
fiery  sword  was  a  masterpiece  which  threw  the  very 
angel  into  the  shade  and  made  perfect  fools  of  Adam 
and  Eve. 

Generally  this  room  smelt  of  ripe  apricots  and  plums 
and  pears,  which  odour  proceeded  from  the  cupboard 
and  attracted  many  wasps,  but  to-night  there  was  a 
smell  of  cigarettes  and  cookery  in  the  air. 

351 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Outside  in  the  patio  were  one  or  two  maids  who  had 
come  to  sit  out  the  evening  and  see  their  young  mis- 
tresses home  again.  Each  wore  a  white  or  red  blossom 
in  her  hair  and  a  simple  black  shawl  around  her  shoul- 
ders, and  one  of  them  threw  off  her  shawl  and  fell  to 
helping  Maria  and  Conchita  in  the  kitchen.  For  there 
were  trays  to  get  ready,  lemons  to  slice,  coffee  to  filter, 
water  to  boil,  pastry  to  serve,  and  a  host  of  other  things 
to  do.  Aye,  and  once  or  twice  the  curling  tongs  were 
smuggled  into  the  fire  and  out  again  for  somebody  who 
had  ruffled  her  ringlets,  or  lost  them  altogether  in  the 
heavy  dew.  Thus  it  was  that  to  those  outside  in  the 
patio  the  kitchen  appeared  a  kind  of  purgatory  with  its 
three  candelas  each  filled  with  glowing  charcoal,  its  dim 
rushlight  hanging  from  the  ceiling,  and  three  torturing 
fiends  in  petticoats,  one  of  them  clothed  in  red,  and  all 
of  them  with  red  faces,  bouncing  hither  and  thither  in  a 
way  that  made  Tio  Patas  cry  "  Pish ! "  from  sheer  an- 
noyance when  he  slouched  contemptuously  through  the 
patio  and  flung  through  the  back  door  into  the  stable 
yard,  snapping  his  fingers  over  his  shoulder  at  the  com- 
pany when  he  got  outside. 

Two  servant  maids  were  peeping  in  at  the  folding 
doors  of  the  long  reception-room.  Against  these  doors 
leant  two  young  men  who  at  first  had  criticised  the  song 
that  was  being  sung ;  then,  noticing  that  one  of  the  two 
maids  had  a  very  neat  face  and  a  neater  figure,  they 
began  to  make  love  to  her  under  cover  of  the  music. 

"  Come  away !  "  said  the  plainer  of  the  two  maids, 
pulling  the  pretty  one  by  her  sleeve. 

"Why?"  asked  the  other,  giggling. 

"They  are  chaffing  us,  can't  you  see?  Come!"  and 
she  drew  her  away  across  the  patio  where  they  joined 
the  group  of  gossips  round  the  kitchen  door. 

The  song  came  to  an  end  and  was  succeeded  by  much 
352 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

clapping  of  hands  from  those  who  suddenly  noticed  its 
cessation  and  by  cries  of  "  j  Bravo  !  "  from  those  whose 
hands  were  filled  with  cards. 

The  singer  was  Don  Joaqum  Perez,  the  poet  of  Santa 
Fe,  in  spectacles ;  the  pianist  was  Don  Guillermo  Breba, 
son  of  the  leading  surgeon,  and  with  seven  years'  prac- 
tice in  his  father's  profession. 

After  Don  Joaqum  had  finished  his  song  and  repeated 
two  verses  of  an  encore,  a  guessing  game  was  started  by 
the  girls,  who  rose  in  a  body  and  expelled  the  men  into  the 
patio,  closing  the  doors  upon  them  ruthlessly  until  the  plot 
had  been  matured. 

The  older  people,  however,  remained  at  the  far  end  of 
the  reception-room  steadily  playing  tresillo. 

In  the  patio  Juan  found  himself  leaning  against  a  tree- 
tub  alongside  Guillermo  Breba  the  doctor,  and  Don  Luis 
was  standing  opposite. 

"  Do  you  not  notice  a  peculiar  smell  of  fish  ?  "  asked 
Don  Luis,  looking  hard  at  Breba. 

The  doctor  first  stared  at  him  vacantly,  then  looked 
annoyed,  for  he  suddenly  understood  the  allusion  to 
Juan's  early  history.  Juan  for  his  part  was  all  innocent 
of  this  double  meaning,  and  moved  his  head  about  to 
detect  the  smell  and  to  find  out  whence  it  came. 

The  upper  lip  of  Don  Luis  curled  and  he  smiled  at 
Juan's  face.  Juan  caught  his  eye,  realized  its  hostility, 
and  stared  at  him  coolly  and  disdainfully  until  he  turned 
away. 

Ever  since  the  Eve  of  St.  John  each  had  been  aware 
that  the  other  was  his  rival,  and  the  two  men  hated  one 
another  by  instinct,  but  with  this  difference.  Juan  felt 
a  contemptuous  dislike  for  this  flouted  lover,  who  boasted 
so  freely  that  he  once  had  been  in  favour,  and  watched 
him  carefully  as  a  passionate  lover  watches  any  and 
every  source  of  danger,  be  his  lady-love  Dame  Con- 
2  A  353 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

stancy  herself.  Luis,  on  the  other  hand,  was  consumed 
by  a  smouldering  fire  of  wrath  which  only  lacked  a  little 
fanning  to  spring  up  into  a  great  roaring  flame  of  ven- 
geance. Why  was  he,  Don  Luis  Gonzalez,  captain  of 
Civil  Guards,  in  a  handsome  uniform  and  with  medals 
and  crosses,  irresistible  conqueror  of  palpitating  hearts 
in  far  Manila,  to  come  home  to  his  old  love  with  six 
more  years  of  manliness  upon  him,  only  to  be  treated  as 
naught  ?  Old  love,  wounded  pride,  passionate  admira- 
tion, these  are  constituents  that  make  Andaluz  blood 
boil  over,  and  Don  Luis,  out  in  Manila,  had  been  a  man 
of  extreme  measures. 

And  so  there  he  stood  against  the  tub  of  an  orange 
bush,  with  folded  arms,  biting  his  nails  and  looking  from 
under  his  black  eyebrows  at  the  cool,  unflinching  face  of 
the  Vizcaino,  whose  towering  frame  caused  him  not  one 
jot  of  apprehension. 

The  gentlemen  of  the  party  had  solaced  themselves 
for  their  expulsion  by  lighting  cigarettes.  One  or  two 
of  the  younger  ones  were  hanging  round  the  kitchen 
and  another  peeped  inside ;  there  was  a  sound  of  scuf- 
fling and  giggling ;  somebody  cried  "  Loose  me !  "  and 
somebody  else,  "  I  won't ! "  Then  rose  the  sound  of 
a  loud  smack  of  palm  on  cheek,  the  servant  maids 
who  were  looking  out  at  the  garden  came  running  in, 
and  Don  Joaqum  Pe>ez  the  poet  came  running  out, 
holding  his  face  in  one  hand  and  his  spectacles  in  the 
other,  and  cursing  the  unhappy  moment  that  he  ever 
tried  to  kiss  Conchita  in  the  shadow  of  the  kitchen 
door. 

Meanwhile  his  fellow-marauders  had  come  off  some- 
what better,  for  each  was  stuffing  some  plunder  into  his 
cheeks  when  four  indignant  wenches  bundled  them  out 
and  slammed  the  door.  These  events  caused  loud  ap- 
plause among  the  loiterers  in  the  patio,  and  many  witty 

354 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

suggestions  to  Joaqum  Pe>ez  as  to  the  subject  for  his 
next  poem. 

The  door  of  the  reception-room  opened  and  one  or 
two  of  the  girls  peeped  out  curiously  to  find  the  cause 
of  this  disturbance ;  six  or  eight  of  the  by-standers 
cheered  and  made  a  rush  towards  the  door;  the  girls 
hurriedly  banged  it  to  again  with  a  scream  and  the  con- 
spiracy proceeded  as  before. 

Juan,  Jose  Ramos,  Guillermo  Breba,  Joaqum  Perez, 
and  Don  Luis  formed  a  little  group  in  the  patio.  They 
were  talking  of  Carrasco. 

Jos/:  "  And  the  reasons  why  you  cannot  catch  him, 
my  captain,  are  many." 

Don  Luis :  "I  perceive  that  you  are  able  to  assist 
me." 

Jost ':  "  Pish  !  Not  at  all.  The  people  sympathize 
with  him.  That  is  one  of  the  reasons.  What  can  the 
Civil  Guards  do  alone  against  an  active  foe  like  Carrasco 
and  his  fifty  bandits,  with  all  the  peasantry  of  Andalucia 
for  passive  supporters  ? " 

Don  Luis :  "  We  shall  see,  my  friend." 

Jost ' :  "  Bah  !  You'll  never  do  any  good  until  the  peo- 
ple leave  off  helping  him.  And  whilst  he  is  so  good 
to  them,  standing  godfather  at  a  woodcutter's  christen- 
ing as  he  did  in  Villaperrilla,  finding  a  girl  her  dowry  as 
he  did  for  the  sexton's  daughter  of  Peflareal,  he  is  a  very 
king.  A  poor  man  falls  into  debt  and  your  rich  land- 
lord embargoes  his  house,  the  Guardia  Civil  back  him 
up.  One  fine  morning  the  embargo  is  quietly  paid  off. 
By  whom  ?  Carrasco  !  Why  bless  me,  Seftores,  news 
like  that  spreads  over  a  province  in  a  twinkling." 

Don  Luis :  "You  seem  enthusiastic,  friend !  " 

Jost ' :  "  So  I  am.  So  would  you  be  if  you  weren't  a 
Civil  Guard,  for  I  take  you  to  be  a  good  Andaluz.  Per- 
haps you'll  be  a  good  bandit  some  day  —  " 

355 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

Don  Luis :    "  Senor  —  " 

Jose" ':  "  I  mean  what  I  say !  Who  made  the  best 
Chief  of  Police  the  Government  ever  had  ?  Why,  Jose 
Marfa,  the  most  famous  bandit  that  ever  lived,  when 
the  Government  gave  up  in  sheer  despair  and  offered 
him  command  of  the  brigand  hunters." 

Guillermo  Breba :  "Ah,  that  is  true  enough,  captain. 
And  he  met  his  death  in  the  hills,  trying  to  capture  two 
of  his  old  comrades  who  refused  to  change  sides." 

Joaquin  Ptres:  "j Jesus!  It  must  have  been  a 
pretty  sight  when  Jos6  Marfa  and  half  his  bandits  came 
riding  into  town.  The  troops  might  have  shot  them 
all." 

Jost ':  "  Pish  !  Talk  sense,  man !  The  Government 
knew  a  trick  worth  two  of  that !  The  best  bargain  they 
ever  struck !  No,  no,  they  kept  good  faith,  and  as  for 
Jos6  Maria  —  the  very  soul  of  honour,  gentlemen." 

Don  Luis:  "Ha!  ha!  ha!" 

Jost ' :  "  Think  you  there  is  no  honour  among  thieves  ? 
Why,  Jos6  Maria  didn't  call  himself  a  thief.  He  was 
chief  of  a  province,  and  levied  fair  tribute,  and  kindly 
tell  me,  Seftores,  in  what  was  he  wrong  ?  My  opinion 
is  that  that's  the  way  all  kings  began." 

Guillermo  Breba  :  "  Well,  Carrasco's  much  the  same, 
with  his  '  safe  passports  through  my  territory '  and  his 
monthly  payments  from  the  company  who  own  the 
diligence." 

Jost ':  "  Every  mayor  in  Andaluci'a  is  in  his  pay,  and 
even  some  Government  officials." 

Don  Luis :  "  Can  you  give  me  then-  names  ? " 

Jose" :  "  Aye,  that  I  can,  if  you'll  run  home  for  my 
pocket-book  that's  fallen  down  the  well." 

Guillermo  Breba:  "Well,  for  my  own  part,  I  am  an 
admirer  of  law  and  order.  Things  are  coming  to  such 
a  pass,  it  makes  a  good  Spaniard  blush." 

356 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

Jos/:  "Pish!" 

Guillermo  Breba :  "  Look  at  what  happened  last  Fri- 
day. The  Civil  Governor  of  Santa  Fe  coming  out  of 
the  Aduana  at  midnight,  a  man  in  a  cloak  touches  him 
on  the  arm  just  as  he  is  climbing  in  to  his  coach,  and  asks 
to  speak  with  him  aside.  '  What  do  you  want,  friend  ? ' 
says  the  Governor.  '  Is  there  not  a  reward  of  100 
ounces  offered  for  the  head  of  one  Carrasco  ? '  asks  the 
stranger.  '  To  be  sure  !  '  says  the  Governor.  '  And 
can  you  tell  me  where  to  find  him,  friend  ? '  '  Under 
this  cloak,  your  Excellency ! '  says  Carrasco,  and,  lifting 
his  hand,  flicks  the  Governor's  hat  off  with  his  thumb 
and  walks  away.  Is  not  this  a  living  scandal  ?  What 
can  the  French  and  English  think  of  us  ? " 

Jost ':  "  But  the  French  and  English  —  live  in  France 
and  England." 

Juan:  "As  who  should  say  they  live  in  another 
planet." 

Jost ':  "  Tis  much  the  same." 

The  gentlemen  were  now  admitted  one  by  one.  Loud 
peals  of  laughter  told  to  the  listeners  outside  how  each 
victim  was  floundering  through  his  task. 

Juan  was  the  last  to  enter.  When  the  game  was 
over  he  sat  down  to  play  tresillo  at  one  of  the  card 
tables  with  Padre  Martinez  and  Dono  Felipa  in  obedi- 
ence to  a  word  from  Carna. 

"  And  how  goes  the  good  cause  ? "  asked  Padre 
Martinez,  with  much  apparent  good  humour  as  the 
cards  went  round. 

"  What  '  good  cause,'  Father  ? " 

"  The  Republican  cause,  to  be  sure,  and  the  Protes- 
tant Mission,  and  all  that !  Dofla  Felipa,  it  is  your  turn, 
I  fancy." 

"  The  Republican  cause  !  "  said  Juan,  laying  down  his 
357 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

i 

cards  in  surprise  ;  "  I  know  nothing  of  such  a  cause.  I 
know  Republicans,  many  of  them,  but  am  I  therefore  a 
Republican  ?  " 

Padre  Martinez  bent  forward,  raised  his  eyebrows,  and 
smiled  mechanically,  but  without  looking  up  from  the 
cards. 

"We  are  waiting  for  you,  Seflor  Nieto." 

Juan  took  up  his  cards  and  played,  but  he  felt  an- 
noyed. However,  he  repeated  his  denial  of  all  Repub- 
lican ideas,  which  caused  Padre  Martinez  to  look  at 
him  facetiously,  and  presently  Juan  took  out  his  pocket- 
case  to  mark  the  score. 

Now  when  he  did  this  he  abstractedly  placed  the  case 
on  the  card  table  by  his  side  and  fell  to  pondering  once 
more,  his  forehead  knit  in  a  frown. 

Then  Carna  came  to  the  table,  begged  them  to  excuse 
Juan  for  a  moment,  and  beckoned  him  after  her  into  the 
patio  ;  he  followed  her  into  the  orchard,  and  in  the 
shadows  of  the  orchard  she  took  his  arm. 

From  the  other  side  of  the  house  came  the  distant 
strains  of  the  piano  and  the  voices  of  Don  Joaqufn  and 
Concha  Lopez,  who  were  singing  "  II  bailen  del  suo 
sorriso,"  and  whether  by  reason  of  the  distance,  or  the 
loveliness  and  perfume  of  the  night  and  the  sleepy 
accompaniment  of  the  waves  upon  the  shingle,  the 
lovers  felt  too  happy  to  do  anything  but  squeeze  each 
other's  hands  and  look  mighty  tender. 

Presently  Juan  unbent  his  arm  to  slip  it  round  her 
waist  and  stooped  to  kiss  her. 

The  kiss  was  so  prolonged  that  "  II  bailen  del  suo 
sorriso  "  (which  had  already  begun  another  verse  when 
their  lips  first  met  together)  had  reached  that  long  flour- 
ish of  twenty-six  grace  notes  before  they  parted,  and 
Concha  had  scarcely  sent  the  last  clear  note  of  her 
crescendo  thrilling  through  the  patio  and  out  into  the 

358 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

garden  when  the  lovers  held  each  other  by  the  hands 
and  gazed  all  laughing  and  love-stricken  into  each 
other's  tell-tale  eyes.  And  what  eyes  were  Carna's, 
with  those  lashes,  in  the  moonlight !  She  heaved  a 
long  sigh  and  sat  down  upon  a  rustic  chair. 

"  The  hour  has  come  for  our  secret  to  have  an  end- 
ing," said  Juan. 

"  Do  you  think,  after  all,  that  it  is  such  a  secret  ? " 
asked  Carna. 

"  If  not,  it  is  your  fault !  "  laughed  Juan. 

"  Or  is  it  yours  ? " 

Tremendous  applause  in  the  distance  and  loud  cries 
of  "  Encore  !  "  from  some  one  who  had  been  in  France. 
The  pianist  played  the  prelude  over  again  and  "  II 
bailen  del  suo  sorriso "  commenced  afresh. 

"  Why,"  said  Juan,  "  does  Padre  Martinez  insist  that 
I  am  a  Republican  ?  Who  has  put  that  into  his  head  ? " 

Carna  thought  for  a  moment,  then  she  looked  up  sud- 
denly and  said,  "  My  cousin  !  " 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Juan,  "  I  might  have  guessed  it.  This 
snake  wants  scotching." 

"  Have  as  little  to  do  with  Luis  as  possible,"  replied 
Carna,  "he  is  a  firebrand." 

"What  is  that ? "  cried  Juan  suddenly,  turning  to  look 
round. 

"  What  ?     I  heard  nothing  !  " 

"  The  sound  of  a  footfall,  as  though  we  were  being 
watched." 

Juan  peered  behind  every  bush  and  corner,  but  could 
see  nothing. 

"  I  can  only  hear  the  owl,"  said  Carna  presently. 

"  Aye  !  What  an  ugly  voice  he  has  !  "  said  Juan. 

"  Yet  the  owl  was  the  greatest  songster  of  them  all, 
his  voice  surpassed  the  thrush  and  nightingale  as  honey 
surpasses  treacle." 

359 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  pretty  sweetheart,"  laughed 
Juan. 

"  The  owl,"  said  Carna,  coming  closer  to  him  and 
looking  up  into  his  face,  "  was  a  famous  singer  among 
the  birds,  but  he  was  the  bird  that  sat  by  the  cross 
when  they  crucified  our  Lord.  And  since  that  day  he 
cannot  sing  a  note,  he  only  goes  '  Cruz  !  Cruz  ! '  "  1 

Juan  looked  down  at  her  attentively  and  with  rever- 
ence as  she  turned  to  pluck  a  flower.  There  were  no 
pretentious  flowers  here  such  as  the  Jesuits  had,  and 
very  little  garden,  only  a  few  old-fashioned  favourites, 
sunflowers,  convolvulus,  and  scarlet  paci'fico.  Carna's 
cut  flowers  all  came  from  the  College.  But  the  orange 
trees  were  in  their  second  bloom,  as  often  happens  in 
Santa  Fe,  and  these,  with  the  fig  trees  and  the  vine  that 
flanked  the  courtyard,  seemed  very  sweet  to  Juan  and 
Carna  to-night. 

"  Come  !  "  said  Juan  at  last. 

And  reaching  down  a  branch,  he  plucked  a  sprig  of 
orange  blossom  and  placed  it  in  Carna's  hair. 

!" Cross!  Cross!" 


360 


CHAPTER   XXI 

"  My  only  love  sprung  from  my  only  hate  ! 
Too  early  seen  unknown,  and  known  too  late  ! 
Prodigious  birth  of  love  it  is  to  me, 
That  I  must  love  a  loa'the'd  enemy." 

Romeo  and  Juliet. 

WHEN  Juan  followed  Carna  from  the  card  table 
he  left  his  letter-case  behind  him  and  close  to 
Dona  Felipa.  There  were  several  folded  papers  in  it, 
and  as  the  case  lay  open  the  letters  came  poking  out 
one  above  the  other. 

Padre  Martinez  looked  across  at  them,  as  he  did  at 
everything,  eagerly. 

And  the  longer  Padre  Martinez  fixed  his  black  eyes 
upon  these  letters,  the  larger  did  his  pupils  seem  to 
grow. 

"  Dona  Felipa." 

"  I  am  all  attention." 

"  Drop  your  cards  near  that  letter-case,  so !  " 

The  old  woman  did  as  she  was  bidden. 

"  Now,  whilst  I  go  on  sorting  my  cards,  Sefiora,  you 
are  going  to  gather  up  your  own  again,  eh  ?  And  when 
you  have  gathered  them  up,  the  letter-case  will  lie  open, 
and  that  letter  with  the  little  gold  mark  in  one  corner 
will  be  disclosed  —  so  !  " 

When  Dona  Felipa  had -gathered  up  her  cards,  the 
letter  was  full  in  view. 

"  Ha  !  Excellent,  Senora,  excellent.  Now  pray  re- 
member our  time  is  limited.  Nevertheless,  look  care- 
lessly at  your  cards  and  sort  them  over,  just  as  I  do 


THE   PAGAN    AT   THE   SHRINE 

mine.  I  perceive  you  have  left  the  letter  upside  down 
for  me.  No  matter !  Now  you  are  going  to  tell  me  all 
about  it.  I  hold  an  excellent  hand,  King  of  Copas, 
Queen  of  Oro,  and  —  you  were  saying  ? " 

"  At  the  top  of  this  letter  is  a  fleur  de  lys !  " 

"  Calm  yourself,  Seflora  !  Fleur  de  lys,  very  well. 
Proceed !  " 

"  And  the  signature  j  Dios  mfo !  The  signature  is 
that  of  Her  Imperial  —  " 

"  Sh  !     Speak  lower !  " 

The  old  woman  completed  her  sentence  in  a  whisper. 

"Very  well,"  said  Padre  Martinez,  shuffling  his 
cards.  "  Now  you  are  going  to  turn  the  letter  so  that 
we  may  both  of  us  read  it,  but  in  such  a  manner,  with 
your  elbow  that  —  in  short,  we  may  be  watched  from 
the  windows.  I  cover  the  people  who  sit  behind  you, 
you  notice  the  people  who  sit  behind  me.  So !  Excel- 
lent !  It  is  written  with  violet  ink  and  upon  both  sides, 
but  only  on  one  face.  Kindly  learn  your  page  off  by 
heart ;  I  am  already  learning  mine.  If  he  comes  back, 
push  it  towards  the  case  again  with  your  elbow." 

For  some  little  time  the  couple  sat  shuffling  their 
cards  and  gazing  down  at  the  table. 

"  Have  you  learnt  your  page  ?  "  asked  Padre  Martinez 
at  length. 

"  Yes." 

"  Ha !  Quite  so.  It  is  the  easier  one.  Mine  had  a 
key  to  cypher.  Yours  was  only  gossip.  Each  to  his 
department.  On  my  side  there  is  no  date." 

"  Nor  on  mine." 

"  The  failing  of  your  sex,  Seflora.    Replace  the  letter ! " 

Dofla  Felipa  looked  around  her;  Padre  Martinez 
looked  behind  her.  The  company  were  closely  inter- 
ested in  the  duet.  She  deftly  replaced  the  letter  and 
closed  the  case. 

362 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Suddenly  Padre  Martinez  looked  up  at  her. 

"  This  marriage,  Sefiora —  " 

"ijPues?" 

"Must  not  be." 

"  j  Dios  mi'o  !     Who  is  to  prevent  it  ? " 

"  You  are,  Sefiora,  you  !  " 

"  j  Jesus  !  Here  they  are  coming  up  the  room  behind 
you,  taking  hands.  I  have  a  presentiment.  This  is  the 
announcement !  She  has  a  sprig  of  orange  blossom  in 
her  hair,  too !  They  are  come  to  ask  your  blessing !  " 

"  I  must  not  give  it !  " 

"  How  can  you  avoid  it  ?  " 

"  Somehow  I  must  be  prevented." 

"  Who  is  to  prevent  you  ?  " 

"  You  are,  Seflora,  you  !  " 

"  j  Dios  mi'o  ! " 

The  Jesuit  continued  to  shuffle  his  cards  very  com- 
posedly and  without  looking  round. 

Juan  and  Carna  came  to  Padre  Martinez,  Carna  blush- 
ing and  trembling,  Juan  very  proud  and  self-possessed. 

"  Father,  this  lady  has  consented  to  be  my  wife,"  he 
said,  and  bowed  profoundly  to  the  priest. 

Carna  fell  upon  her  knees  beside  the  Jesuit's  chair 
and  bent  her  head,  awaiting  his  benediction. 

There  was  a  general  uprising  of  guests  around  the 
room,  a  sound  of  exclamations,  and  then  deep  silence. 
The  maids  stood  peeping  in  at  the  doorway. 

"  Ha ! "  said  Padre  Martinez,  and  rose  to  his  feet, 
looking  down  at  Carna. 

There  were  those  who  afterwards  averred  that  Padre 
Martinez  held  himself  stiff  and  seemed  to  refuse  his 
blessing ;  there  were  those  who  thought  they  saw  him 
hesitate ;  there  were  those  who  maintained  that  his 
hands  were  all  but  spread  upon  the  graceful  bowed 
head  before  him,  but  the  truth  will  never  be  known. 

363 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

For  at  that  moment  Dona  Felipa  uttered  the  most 
piercing  scream  that  human  ear  had  ever  hearkened 
to  in  Santa  Fe,  not  excepting  those  ancient  days  when 
Autos  de  Fe  were  held  in  the  market-place,  and,  fall- 
ing from  where  she  sat  behind  the  table,  she  dis- 
appeared from  view  of  the  horror-stricken  spectators, 
and  swooned  right  away  upon  the  floor  as.  flat  as  a 
pancake,  or  as  nearly  so  as  Nature  would  permit. 
The  first  to  recover  from  his  astonishment  was  Padre 
Martinez. 

"  Quick,  bring  a  salts  bottle !  "  he  called  to  the  maids. 
"  Perhaps  it  is  only  a  slight  attack.  Though  now  I 
think  of  it,  this  lady  has  looked  strangely  pale  through- 
out the  evening.  Has  nobody  noticed  it  ? " 

Of  course  they  had  ! 

Ten  people  rushed  out  of  the  room  to  bring  the  salts 
bottle,  and  fell  over  each  other  in  the  doorway.  The 
young  doctor  and  several  others  moved  the  card  table 
aside,  and  discovered  Dofia  Felipa,  eyes  closed,  heels 
together,  and  arms  lying  wide  apart.  All  eyes  followed 
Guillermo  Breba  as  he  knelt  beside  the  prostrate  lady 
and  took  her  wrist  in  one  hand,  placing  his  other  hand 
upon  her  left  side. 

It  is  not  known  whether  the  motion  of  Dofia  Felipa's 
heart  had  sunk  to  one  beat  per  minute,  but  certain  it  is 
that  Don  Guillermo  kept  the  by-standers  in  suspense  for 
nearly  sixty  seconds  before  pronouncing  that  life  as  yet 
was  not  extinct. 

"  j  Dios  mfo  !  "  cried  all  the  ladies. 

"What  ails  her?  "  demanded  the  gentlemen. 

The  doctor  shook  his  head.  This  was  taken  by  some 
to  mean  that  the  symptoms  were  very  grave,  but  it 
might  even  have  meant  that  Don  Guillermo  did  not 
know.  At  last  he  spoke. 

"  I  pray  you,"  said  he,  "  bring  me  a  basin.  Fortu- 
364 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

nately  I  have  my  lancet  with  me.  This  good  lady  is  too 
full  of  blood,  of  that  I  am  convinced." 

Several  rushed  out  for  a  basin,  and  nearly  collided 
with  others  who  were  bringing  in  the  salts  bottle.  At 
this  very  moment  Dona  Felipa  opened  her  eyes. 

"  I  am  better  now,"  she  said  in  a  very  faint  voice. 
Smelling  salts  were  administered  to  the  nose,  cold  hand- 
kerchiefs to  the  forehead. 

"What  was  it?  "  asked  several  of  the  ladies  eagerly. 

"  Oh,  that  face,  that  dreadful  face ! "  cried  Dona 
Felipa,  almost  with  a  scream  and  with  symptoms  of 
swooning  once  again. 

"  What  face  ?     Where  ?  " 

"In  the  window !     There  !  " 

Everybody  looked  towards  the  window  with  distended 
eyes,  and  the  concentrated  gaze  of  more  than  twenty 
people  fell  upon  Tio  Patas,  who  was  looking  in  from  the 
garden  very  much  surprised,  and  dimly  visible  in  the 
shadow  of  a  palm  tree.  The  girls  made  a  rush  towards 
him,  and  demanded  to  know  what  he  wanted,  "  looking 
in  at  windows  suddenly  with  a  face  like  that,  and  very 
nearly  causing  a  sweet  lady  to  die  an  untimely  death  !  " 

When  Tio  Patas,  all  gasping  with  fury,  realized  that 
this  was  being  said  to  him  in  earnest,  he  so  lost  control 
of  himself  that  the  ladies  put  their  fingers  in  their  ears 
and  Don  Luis  slammed  the  windows  to,  leaving  him 
mowing  and  gesticulating  through  the  glass  at  them. 

What  with  this,  and  with  Dona  Felipa  being  helped 
out  of  the  room  in  a  half -fainting  condition  and  insisting 
upon  Carna's  going  with  her  to  comfort  her,  the  lovers 
and  their  betrothal  were  quite  forgotten  for  the  time 
being. 

The  tertulia  was  forthwith  broken  up. 

Juan  found  a  moment  to  say  to  Carna  apart  — 

"  I  shall  wait  beneath  your  balcony  until  they  all  have 
365 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

left.     Will  you  come  there   to  say  good  night  to  me, 
sweetheart  ? " 

"  Yes.     Go  and  wait,"  she  whispered. 

Jose"  Ramos,  arm  in  arm  with  Joaqum  Perez,  went  up 
the  road  towards  a  wayside  tavern  along  the  highway, 
for  little  mischievous  Jose1  had  found  there  was  great 
promise  of  amusement  in  a  poet  who  was  also  half  a 
rake.  Besides,  he  knew  a  rhyme  or  two  himself. 

The  last  two  people  to  leave  the  house  were  Don 
Luis  and  Padre  Martinez.  Each  had  his  purpose ;  each 
hoped  the  other  would  go  first. 

Dofia  Felipa,  as  soon  as  she  heard  that  all  but  these 
two  had  departed,  revived  most  hopefully,  and  even  sat 
out  in  the  patio  fanning  herself  and  taking  sips  of  water. 

At  last  the  Guardsman  turned  to  go. 

"  See  me  to  the  door,  cousin ! "  he  said  in  an  under- 
tone pleadingly  to  Carna. 

She  went  with  him  reluctantly.  When  they  reached 
the  porch  he  begged  her  to  come  outside,  looked  all 
around  him,  and  — 

"  Cousin,  I  have  a  word  or  two  to  speak  with  you," 
said  he. 

"Say  on,"  replied  Carna  impatiently,  and  making  a 
slight  grimace. 

"When  one  marries,  'tis  to  make  or  mar  oneself." 

"iPues?" 

"And  you  are  about  —  to  mar  yourself." 

"  Cousin  Luis,  my  father  used  to  say,  '  Never  contra- 
dict a  fool,'  and  I  will  not  contradict  you." 

"  Oh,  that  he  were  alive  at  this  moment,  to  see  his 
only  daughter  wedded  to  a  fisher-boy,  a  charran  !  " 

"  Luis,  if  you  have  nothing  better  to  say,  I  will  bid 
you  good  night  and  go  in.  For  mad  words  I  have  only 
deaf  ears." 

"  How  impatient  you  are  with  me,  and  how  bitter!  " 
366 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  You  have  squeezed  the  orange  too  far.  Now  comes 
the  bitter  part." 

"  Stay !  "  said  the  captain,  making  a  step  forward  in 
the  shadow  of  the  porch,  and  looking  at  her  eagerly. 
"  I  have  more  to  say  to  you." 

"  I  pray  you  be  brief,  then." 

"  Honey  is  not  for  an  ass's  mouth.  Nay,  nay !  — 
come !  I  have  done  with  your  charran  ;  I  will  say  no 
more  of  him.  Turn  back,  pretty  cousin  !  " 

She  looked  at  him  where  he  stood,  with  the  moon- 
light filtering  down  through  the  foliage,  lighting  gay 
patches  of  his  uniform  and  glittering  sword-hilt,  and 
falling  on  his  face.  An  eager  passion  was  rising  in  his 
eyes,  and  she  took  one  step  away  from  him. 

"  For  the  sake  of  bygone  days  and  bygone  love,"  he 
said,  "  wait  but  one  month,  little  cousin,  before  you  take 
the  dichosy  before  you  acknowledge  your  betrothal  to 
this  man.  Carna !  have  pity  on  me  !  In  six  years  I 
have  known  sixty  passions,  yet  all  their  strength  com- 
bined may  not  equal  the  devouring  love  I  feel  for  you. 
Alas !  you  can  twist  me  round  your  fingers,  little  one, 
and  bid  me  kiss  your  shoes,  make  me  cut  any  capers 
that  you  list.  Oh,  cousin  !  cousin  !  " 

Don  Luis  moved  nearer  to  her,  and  a  lump  seemed 
to  rise  in  his  throat  and  choke  his  utterance.  His  fists 
were  tightly  clenched. 

He  bent  closer  to  her,  and  whispered  passionately  in 
her  ear,  seizing  her  little  wrist  with  a  grip  that  made 
her  wince. 

"  Blessed  be  the  mother  that  bore  thee,  the  sun  that 
shines  upon  thee,  the  air  that  breathes  upon  thee ! 
Blessed  be  the  ground  that  thou  treadest,  the  pillow 
where  thou  liest  — 

She  wrenched  away  her  hand  and  moved  back  tow- 
ards the  doorstep. 

367 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  Nay  !  "  he  cried  bitterly,  "  I  will  '  thou  '  thee  no 
more.  I  must  leave  that  to  another,  cousin,  eh  ?  Stay  ! 
Bid  me  good  night  like  a  friend  ;  do  not  scurry  away  as 
though  I  had  tried  to  murder  you.  Am  I  a  toad  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  no  !  "  said  Carna,  almost  in  tears.  "  And 
believe  me,  cousin,  I  think  very  well  of  you.  But  what 
may  not  be,  may  not  be.  And,  alas !  I  can  say  no 
more ! " 

He  took  her  hand,  controlling  himself  and  trying  to 
seem  merely  courteous.  For  some  moments  he  gazed 
into  her  eyes,  until  she  made  a  movement  of  embarrass- 
ment, then  loosing  her  hand,  he  fell  upon  one  knee 
beside  the  doorstep,  and  would  have  kissed  her  shoe, 
but  when  she  drew  away  he  kissed  the  ground  where 
she  had  rested  it. 

Then,  half  rising  — 

"  Cousin,"  said  he,  "  before  your  wedding  day  you 
may  weary  of  this  newcomer.  Mark  me  well !  And  if 
this  come  to  pass,  you  have  but  to  do  one  thing." 

Carna  drew  herself  up,  and  looked  upon  him  coldly. 

"  Do  you  know  what  it  is  ?  Nay,  but  I  will  tell  you  ! 
The  old  love  signal,  cousin,  when  you  and  I  were  sweet- 
hearts. Hang  your  shawl  of  Manila  over  your  balcony, 
and  within  the  hour,  aye,  within  the  same  moment,  I  am 
with  you  to  worship  and  protect.  Till  then,  before  God, 
I  will  not  come  again !  Hear  you  that,  cousin  ?  My 
foot  shall  never  cross  your  threshold  any  more  unless 
you  bid  me  !  " 

He  rose  and  stood  before  her. 

Carna's  pretty  face  grew  bitter  with  a  sneer  as  she 
turned  to  go  inside,  calling  to  him  over  her  shoulder  — 

"  As  you  will,  cousin  !  Come  when  I  hang  your 
shawl  over  my  balcony  !  Go  with  God  !  " 

"  With  God ! "  replied  the  Guardsman,  and  strode 
moodily  away. 

368 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

When  Don  Luis  reached  the  highway  he  heard  a 
footstep  behind  him,  and,  turning,  recognized  Juan,  who 
came  towards  him  with  such  evident  intention  that  the 
captain  could  scarcely  pretend  that  he  had  not  seen 
him. 

"  A  word  in  your  ear,  friend  captain !  "  said  Juan, 
who  was  smoking  a  cigarette  and  trying  to  speak 
calmly. 

"  I  am  here,  Senor,"  replied  Luis,  "  and  whilst  I  re- 
main, my  right  ear  is  at  your  service  to  take  in  all  you 
say.  For  my  left  ear,  I  shall  leave  it  uncorked  also,  but 
that  has  another  purpose." 

"  As  you  will !  Standing  by  the  corner  of  my  sweet- 
heart's house  —  " 

"  Of  whose  house  ?  " 

"My  sweetheart's  and  your  cousin's  —  I  happened 
to  see  you  catch  her  by  the  wrist." 

"  Ah  !  And  you  are  not  ashamed,  Senor  ? " 

"  Of  what  ?  " 

"  To  confess  that  you  were  eavesdropping  ?  " 

"  Think  what  you  will.  What  I  wished  to  tell  you, 
Don  Luis,  is  this.  Be  you  captain  of  Civil  Guards  or 
commander-in-chief  of  all  the  forces,  had  you  not 
released  that  lady  on  the  instant,  I  would  have  shaken 
the  breath  out  of  you,  and  if  I  see  you  take  such  a 
liberty  again,  I  will  hold  you  by  the  collar  with  one 
hand  and  bang  your  bones  soundly  with  the  other. 
^  Estamos  ?  " 

The  Guardsman's  fury  knew  no  bounds.  To  increase 
his  rage,  the  tall  Vizcaino's  arm,  lightly  brushing 
against  his  sleeve,  looked  fully  capable  of  carrying  out 
this  threat. 

"  You  will  not  do  that,  friend  fisherman  !  " 

Juan  looked  down  steadily  into  his  face  with  a  provok- 
ing contemptuous  smile. 

2  B  369 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  You  will  not  do  that,"  repeated  Don  Luis,  "  and  for 
two  good  reasons.  First,  my  friend,  because  no  one 
shall '  batter  my  bones,'  unless  it  be  the  sexton,  and  'tis  a 
longer  march  from  your  threat  to  its  fulfilment  than  it 
is  from  here  to  the  cemetery.  Secondly,  because  I  do 
not  play  at  pommelling." 

He  looked  meaningly  into  Juan's  unflinching  face, 
and  his  eyes  were  like  coals  of  fire. 

"When  I  settle  accounts,"  continued  Don  Luis  slowly 
and  hoarsely,  "  I  sign  them  with  red  ink,  my  friend. 
And  you  remind  me  of  just  such  another  Jack-a-napes 
as  yourself,  who  made  very  similar  remarks  to  me  in 
Manila.  I  killed  him  one  morning  with  a  little  turn  of 
the  wrist  I  have,  so  —  j  zas  !  —  before  breakfast." 

The  captain,  without  taking  his  eyes  off  Juan,  gave 
an  overhand  turn  to  his  wrist,  as  a  swordsman  who  rap- 
idly shifts  his  point  from  guard  to  thrust,  making  a 
clacking  with  his  lips  as  he  did  so. 

"  Faith,  and  very  prettily  done,"  said  Juan,  "  but  you 
should  not  have  warned  me,  Seftor !  I  am  amused  to 
see  you  so  much  put  out ;  it  would  seem  that  your  cousin 
has  been  none  too  kind  to  you." 

"  I  trust  that  Dofla  Carna  will  come  to  her  senses 
even  yet,  and  live  to  laugh  at  you,"  cried  the  captain. 
"Women,  wind,  and  fortune  soon  change!  Do  you 
know,  Seflor  Don  Panperdido,  that  our  grandfather  Gon- 
zalez of  Santa  Fe  was  one  who  stood  covered  before 
his  sovereign  ?  j  Caracoles !  And  now  we're  to  have 
sprats  in  our  quarterings,  and  Jesuit  sprats,  forsooth  ! 
No  sooner  do  I  turn  my  back  on  Santa  Fe  than  in  walks 
Sir  Fish  with  a  crucifix  under  one  fin  and  a  bunch  of 
forget-me-nots  under  the  other." 

"  Seflor,  a  strong  tongue  generally  goes  with  a  weak 
hand,  but  I  will  not  disabuse  you  of  your  opinions,  for 
that  were  to  wash  the  head  of  an  ass.  I  hear  footsteps, 

370 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

and  this  lady's  good  name  is  too  dear  to  me  for  lips  such 
as  yours  to  be  profaning  it  along  the  highways." 

The  captain's  anger  was  now  beyond  control,  and 
the  quarrel  thus  begun  had  most  likely  had  a  serious 
ending,  but  at  this  moment  they  were  suddenly  inter- 
rupted. 

Jose",  coming  out  of  the  ventorrillo  arm  in  arm  with 
the  poet,  had  felt  very  merry  and  little  guessed  what 
hot  words  were  being  bandied  almost  within  a  stone's 
throw  of  where  they  stood.  They  had  taken  two  or 
three  "  swallows"  of  Manzanilla,  and,  coming  out  of  the 
wine-shop,  paused  to  quarrel  as  to  who  should  light  the 
other's  cigarette  first,  then  resumed  the  thread  of  their 
conversation  and  sauntered  on  along  the  road,  which, 
at  that  point,  was  an  avenue  with  gentlemen's  villas 
lying  in  stately  gardens  on  either  side,  and  the  perfume 
of  dama  de  la  noche  gently  stealing  round  the  wayfarer. 
Truly  a  scene  in  which  one  would  scarcely  expect  a 
brawl ! 

The  subject  of  their  argument  was  the  Muse  Senti- 
mental as  opposed  to  the  Muse  Jocose. 

Jost ':  "  Enough  of  such  heavy  music  !  For  my  part, 
I  am  for  laughing  while  I  can,  for  it's  more  than  likely 
I  shall  weep  to-morrow.  I  liked  that  better  about  — 

"  '  Your  eyes  are  two  suns 
And  my  heart  is  wax.' 

Sing  it  me  again." 

Joaquin :  "  Oh !  if  you  care  for  serenades  now,  what 
better  than  the  quartette  ?  " 

Jost :  "  Or  that  about  '  May  God  never  give  me  a 
purse  without  plenty,  a  stew  without  meat,  or  a  bottle 
that's  empty. ' ' 

Joaquin :  "  Yes  !  Quite  so  !  I  see  you  are  very  fond 
of  the  devil-may-care.  Well,  a  little  of  it  is  excellent, 

371 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

but  you  mustn't  put  it  in  everything,  like  the  cook  does 
garlic  and  tomatoes.  As  for  your  drinking  songs,  they 
are  very  well,  but  they  are  musty.  Nowadays  there  is 
a  Renaissance  of  pure  art.  Now,  for  good  taste,  look 
at  the  '  Rhapsody  of  a  Night  Owl '  —  " 

Jost:  "  Hist !  with  your  'Night  Owls  ' !  what  is  that 
going  on  yonder  in  the  moonlight  across  the  avenue  ? 
Listen  ! " 

Joaquin :  "  Who  are  they  ? " 

Jost ' :  "  The  captain  of  Civil  Guards  for  one,  and 
Don  Juan  Nieto  for  another,  and  hooting  at  each  other 
to  some  purpose." 

Jose  and  Joaqum  stood  for  a  few  moments  in  the 
shadow  cast  by  the  moon  from  a  bushy  poplar,  then 
Jos£  suddenly  touched  the  poet  on  the  shoulder. 

"Come,"  said  he;  "you  had  better  take  the  captain 
by  the  arm  and  whisper  your  '  Rhapsody  of  a  Night 
Owl '  in  his  ear  to  soothe  him.  For  my  own  part,  I'll 
hang  on  to  my  old  comrade  the  Vizcaino." 

"  And  quickly,"  muttered  P6rez,  crossing  over.  "  For 
if  not,  there  is  going  to  be  bloodshed !  " 


When  Carna  went  to  the  porch  to  bid  her  cousin 
good  night,  Padre  Martinez  stood  looking  down  at  Dofla 
Felipa. 

"You  are  an  artist,  Sefiora,  an  artist!"  the  Catalan 
priest  had  said  to  the  old  woman  when  they  were  alone. 
Then  presently  — 

"  Have  you  smelt  the  wickedness  of  it  ?  Have  you 
seen  the  devil's  ear  ? " 

"  The  letter  ?  " 

"Aye,  Sefiora,  the  letter!  A  letter,  most  weighty 
and  particular,  addressed  to  the  '  Father  Rector  of  the 
College,'  containing  a  secret  cypher,  with  names  of 

372 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

dukes  and  marquises,  our  friends  and  allies,  whose 
fathers  were  Jesuits  before  them ;  a  message  that  our 
enemies  would  have  risked  their  necks  to  capture,  and 
now  they  have  it  in  their  keeping.  This,  then,  is  the 
fountain  whence  springs  this  deadly  water.  Cursed  be 
my  overcautiousness !  What  was  it,  again,  that  was 
written  about  the  money  ?  " 

Dona  Felipa  looked  upwards  and  reflected,  then  said 
slowly  — 

" '  The  Bishop  is  yours,  the  Civil  Governor  is  yours, 
and  one  hundred  thousand  francs.  All  these  you  may 
have  before  the  Day  of  St.  John  by  merely  asking  me, 
but  until  I  have  your  answer  to  this  note  I  dare  not 
move.' " 

"  This  !  "  cried  the  priest,  raising  his  finger  and  glar- 
ing furiously  around  him  to  make  sure  they  were  alone ; 
"  this  in  itself  were  proof  enough.  Who  but  our  dead- 
liest foe  would  thus  prevent  assistance  and  supplies  ? 
And  they  have  not  come ;  no,  no,  they  have  never 
come.  '  Before  the  Day  of  St.  John.'  Why,  the  Bishop 
is  still  our  foe,  the  Civil  Governor  still  opposes  us,  and 
as  for  the  money,  I  know  from  Padre  Mateo  exactly 
what  has  come  in  and  what  has  gone  out.  Therefore, 
mark  me  well,  Senora,  this  is  no  letter  that  the  Rector 
has  received  without  my  knowledge !  This  is  no  letter 
that  has  been  filched  from  him!  This  is  a  letter — . 
My  God,  can  the  old  man  have  told  the  truth  ? " 

"  Who  ? " 

"  Ti'o  Patas !  Unless  he  is  the  Father  of  Lies  him- 
self, this  is  the  same  letter  that  has  passed  the  round 
of  the  Republican  and  Protestant  agitators,  and  was 
handed  to  this  infamous  young  man  by  Pedro  Gutierrez 
from  his  balcony.  My  God  !  " 

The  Catalan  priest  paused  for  a  while  to  ponder  with 
folded  arms,  and  in  his  powerful  face  and  jet-black  eyes 

373 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

were  such  purpose  and  concentration  that  Dofia  Felipa 
feared  to  interrupt  him. 

"This,  Sefiora,  must  be  our  plan  of  action,"  he  said 
at  length,  coming  close  to  the  old  woman  and  bending 
down  towards  her,  "  unceasing  watchfulness.  Every 
word  and  action  must  be  recorded,  his  going  and  com- 
ing made  a  note  of,  a  message  in  my  hands  within  the 
hour  if  anything  strange  occurs.  And  whatever  ingenu- 
ity may  devise  that  is  discreet,  that  do,  in  order  that 
we  may  —  " 

The  Jesuit  paused  and  pressed  his  lips  together. 

Dofia  Felipa  concluded  the  sentence  for  him. 

"  In  order  that  this  marriage  may  be  prevented." 

Padre  Martinez  smiled  grimly. 

"  Aye !    That  in  the  first  place." 

"  And  what  else  ?  " 

"  When  one  has  been  stung  by  a  snake  in  the  grass, 
an  atheist,  blasphemous,  noisome,  offensive,  deceitful, 
conspiring  snake  that  one  had  nourished ;  an  innocent- 
looking,  insidious,  poisonous  reptile,  what  should  one  do, 
Sefiora,  what  should  one  do  ? " 

"j  Jesus,  Marfa,  y  Jos6  !  He  is  the  Father  Rector's 
own  nephew." 

"  Aye  !  And  therefore,  whatever  is  to  be  done,  we 
had  best  do  quickly,  spare  him  the  agony  of  this  chas- 
tisement, and  pity  his  poor  white  hairs." 

"  How  far  must  we  push  this  matter  ? " 

"  How  far,  Sefiora,  how  far  ?  How  far  may  we  not? 
'  If  thine  eye  offend  thee,  pluck  it  out,  and  cast  it  from 
thee :  it  is  better  for  thee  to  enter  into  life  with  one  eye 
rather  than  having  two  eyes  to  be  cast  into  hell  fire.'  It 
is  not  our  own  battle  that  we  fight,  neither  do  we  seek 
our  own  profit ;  it  is  the  Master's,  and  I  have  but  re- 
peated to  you  His  very  words.  Use  them  according  to 
your  lights." 

374 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Dofia  Felipa  made  a  sign  of  acquiescence. 

"  You  have  but  to  command  !  "  said  she.  "  The  Mas- 
ter's will  be  done!  First,  I  can  see  one  thing  clearly." 

"What?" 

"  We  must  break  off  this  match.  The  child's  money 
is  partly  in  your  control.  Could  you  not  —  ?  " 

"  Bah !  A  slow  way  and  a  clumsy  one,  Seftora,  and 
the  worst  way  —  with  a  woman  !  That  the  match  must 
be  broken  off,  so  far,  so  good.  But  you  have  not  yet 
risen  to  the  situation.  What  is  worse,  you  have  over- 
looked a  fundamental  axiom.  Pray,  would  you  have  her 
regard  me  as  her  enemy  ?  " 

"  There  is  only  one  safe  way  of  breaking  off  matches," 
said  Dona  Felipa  presently,  as  though  this  process  were 
not  new  to  her.  "  A  lovers'  quarrel,  twenty  lovers' 
quarrels,  however  skilfully  contrived,  can  be  made 
up  again." 

Padre  Martinez  watched  the  speaker  with  silent  at- 
tention. 

"  This  gallant,  when  he  returns,"  continued  Dofta 
Felipa,  "must  find  another  lover  in  his  place.  That 
means  a  final  rupture." 

"  And  our  '  other  lover '  ?  " 

"  Ready  to  hand.     Luis,  her  cousin." 

"  But  our  daughter  scarcely  favours  him,"  said  the 
Jesuit  drily. 

"  No,  nor  ever  will  do.     It  cannot  be  hoped  for." 

"iPues?" 

"  One  cannot  think,  in  five  minutes,  how  such  a  trap 
could  be  contrived.  But  Zamora  was  not  captured  in  an 
hour." 

"  I  begin  to  see,"  replied  Padre  Martinez,  "  that  you 
are  in  the  right,  Seflora.  One  nail  drives  out  another. 
That,  evidently,  is  our  plan.  We  have  advanced  a  step. 
But  this  is  not  a  siege  of  Zamora ;  our  battle  must  be 

375 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

fought  and  won  within  the  next  few  hours.  Therefore, 
lose  no  time ;  commence  from  this  moment  gently  to 
persuade  her.  Present  to  her  the  idea  that  she  must 
replace  this  Nieto  by  her  cousin  Luis.  If  she  rebels, 
discretion  !  If  she  be  weak,  push  home !  But  sow  the 
seed,  Senora,  sow  the  seed,  and  leave  me  to  cultivate  the 
seed  already  sown.  At  first  she  will  have  none  of  it,  but 
no  matter  !  There  is  no  such  thing  as  an  impossibility. 
This  is  a  case  that  demands  a  tour  de  force.  Therefore 
to-morrow,  after  we  have  slept  over  it  —  " 

"  Hist !  "  said  Dona  Felipa ;  "  here  she  comes  !  " 

In  a  moment  he  had  changed  his  expression,  and, 
turning  to  Carna  with  a  smile,  told  her  that  the  invalid 
was  much  improved. 

Bidding  good  night  to  the  ladies  very  courteously, 
Padre  Martinez  turned  to  go.  To  Dofia  Felipa  he 
gave  his  hand.  She  kissed  it. 

To  Carna  he  gave  it  also,  but  although  she  kissed 
it  dutifully,  she  followed  him  to  the  door. 

The  priest  was  all  smiles  and  urbanity,  talking  to 
his  "  little  daughter "  of  her  tertulia,  and  plying  her 
with  graceful  compliments. 

Yet  he  seemed  in  a  hurry  to  be  gone. 

"  The  diavala  is  not  here,"  said  Carna  on  the  doorstep. 

"  I  will  find  one  along  the  main  road,  daughter,"  he 
replied. 

"Father!  —  " 

"What  is  it,  my  child?" 

"  O  Father  !  "  cried  Carna,  falling  upon  her  knees  on 
the  step  beside  him  and  bursting  into  tears  with  an  emo- 
tion that  overcame  her,  though  its  origin  she  scarcely 
knew.  "  O  Father,  give  me  your  blessing  in  my  newly 
found  happiness.  Did  you  not  hear  what  he  said  ?  Place 
your  hands  upon  my  head  in  the  name  of  the  Holy 
Mother,  and  in  sign  of  God's  consent" 

376 


THE    PAGAN    AT   THE   SHRINE 

For  a  moment  the  priest  paused  as  though  in  hesita- 
tion, looked  sternly  at  the  moon,  and  swept  his  gaze 
around  the  palms  and  orange  trees,  piercing  the  far- 
thest shadows,  glanced  behind  him  into  the  lighted  patio, 
then  raised  his  hands  aloft,  and  with  every  nerve  and 
sinew  trembling,  bent  over  her  and  said  — 

"  Thy  lover  is  God's  own  enemy,  an  atheist,  liar,  and 
conspirator,  the  foe  of  Christ's  chosen  Company,  the 
Evil  One  himself  come  down  from  the  mountains.  Shun 
him  as  thou  wouldst  shun  hell  fire ;  fear  him  as  thou 
wouldst  fear  God's  curse  ;  loathe  him  as  thou  wouldst 
loathe  a  leper  that  stood  in  thy  path  and  blasphemed 
Christ's  holy  name  !  " 

Without  another  word  Padre  Martinez  let  fall  his  arms, 
drew  himself  up,  and,  gathering  his  skirts  around  him, 
stepped  off  into  the  night,  nor  paused  to  look  behind 
him. 

On  the  doorstep  knelt  Carna,  white  and  immovable, 
silent  and  turned  to  stone. 


377 


CHAPTER  XXII 

"  I  will  not  marry  yet ;  and,  when  I  do,  I  swear, 
It  shall  be  Romeo,  whom  you  know  I  hate, 
Rather  than  Paris." 

Romeo  and  Juliet. 

LONG  and  pitiful  was  the  scene  between  Dofta 
Felipa  and  Carna  when  she  came  back  into  the 
patio  looking  like  any  ghost.  When  Dofla  Felipa  at 
length  excused  herself,  saying  that  she  felt  too  ill  to 
argue  longer,  Carna  was  left  with  her  maids,  who  sat 
upon  the  floor  around  her,  having  been  silent  witnesses 
of  the  interview. 

"  So  that,  Seflorita,  the  priest  forbids  it  ? "  asked 
Susana  open-eyed,  as  soon  as  Dofla  Felipa  had  closed 
her  door. 

Carna  did  not  answer.  She  was  leaning  forward  in 
a  chair,  her  hands  between  her  knees,  her  eyes  staring 
at  the  ground. 

"  Then  what's  to  be  done  ?  "  asked  Marfa. 

"  That  '  what's  to  be  done '  ?  "  asked  Conchita  fiercely 
and  snapping  her  fingers  at  the  questioner.  "  Come, 
let  us  see,  what  would  you  do  ? " 

"  But  j  hija !     If  the  Jesuits  forbid  ? " 

Conchita  sprang  to  her  feet  and  placed  one  hand 
upon  her  hip,  flourishing  the  other  the  better  to  speak 
her  mind. 

"  Were  I  plighted  to  such  a  sweetheart,  neither  Padre 
Martinez  nor  the  Bishop  of  Santa  Fe  nor  the  Pope  of 
Rome  himself  should  come  between  us.  God's  will  is 
God's  will,  but  it  is  not  the  will  of  the  Jesuits." 

378 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"Sh!"  cried  Susana,  who  was  more  impressionable. 
"  You  chatter  of  things  that  you  don't  understand.  It 
is  not  a  matter  of  the  Jesuits.  Don  Juan  Nieto  has 
made  a  compact  with  the  Evil  One.  He  is  a  doomed 
soul." 

"  ;  Quia !  "  snarled  Conchita,  angrily  puckering  up 
her  nose  and  face.  "  What  '  doomed  soul '  nor '  doomed 
soul ' ! " 

"  Did  you  not  hear  ?  The  good  father  told  the 
Senorita  he  was  the  '  Evil  One  himself  come  down  from 
the  mountains.' ' 

"  Pray  God  you  may  go  to  bed  with  such  another  on 
your  wedding  night." 

"You  seem  to  think  it  impossible  then  that  Satan 
could  go  disguised  ? "  asked  Susana. 

"  Pish ! " 

"  Let  me  tell  you  that  such  things  have  happened." 

"Where?"  asked  Maria  open-eyed. 

"  In  Frigiliana.  Ask  them  to  this  day  about  the 
stranger  that  came  a-courting  with  a  guitar,  and  always 
at  the  balcony.  Seldom  they  could  persuade  him  to 
go  inside  a  house,  and  when  he  did,  he  never  took  his 
hat  off" 

"  Ah-h  !  "  said  Maria. 

"  And  one  evening  his  lady-love  reached  her  arm  out 
through  the  reja  and  snatched  off  his  hat.  And  what 
do  you  think  she  saw  ?  " 

"  Hair  !  "  laughed  Conchita. 

"  Aye,  hair !  But  in  amongst  it  were  two  little  horns. 
And  Old  Nick  flew  off  in  a  fury,  spitting  fire  at  her,  and 
if  you  don't  believe  me,  ask  them  in  Frigiliana  !  " 

"  j  Hija  !  I  am  sorry  for  you  !  "  cried  Conchita  scorn- 
fully. "  'Tis  my  opinion  the  devil  has  too  many  fish  to 
fry  to  have  time  on  his  hands  for  serenading,  and  when 
every  man  that  goes  whispering  at  the  reja  is  the  devil's 

379 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

own  assistant,  why,  what  need  for  Old  Wickedness 
himself  to  come  a-courting  ?  Maria  is  surprised  at  you, 
and  so  am  I !  " 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Marfa,  joining  in,  "  that  this 
wickedness  has  very  suddenly  come  to  light." 

"  Ah,  and  so  suddenly !  "  cried  Conchita. 

"  Perhaps  the  good  father  is  deceived  ? "  said  Susana, 
looking  up  at  her  mistress. 

Carna  seemed  to  become  conscious  for  the  first  time 
that  they  were  speaking  to  her.  She  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands  and  burst  into  tears. 

The  girls  drew  near  to  her. 

Susana  placed  her  arm  round  Carna's  waist  and 
kissed  her  hot  cheek ;  Conchita  took  her  arm  and  tried 
to  pacify  her ;  Maria  knelt  in  front  of  her  and  looked 
up  at  the  tears  that  were  dropping  between  her  fingers. 

"  This  comes  of  priests  meddling  with  women's 
hearts,"  cried  Conchita  angrily. 

"  j  Ay  de  mf !  "  sobbed  Carna. 

"  This  house  smells  somewhat  too  strongly  of  Jesuits," 
said  Maria. 

Susana  looked  up  at  the  closed  door  of  Dofia  Felipa 
along  the  gallery  and  said  "  Sh  !  " 

"  You  must  not  talk  thus  to  me,"  said  Carna  pres- 
ently, when  she  could  control  herself,  "though  God 
knows  you  mean  very  well." 

And  soon  after  she  bade  them  help  her  upstairs  to 
her  chamber,  where  they  undressed  her  with  intervals 
for  sobbing,  and  put  her  to  bed  with  many  caresses. 
Soon  after  they  left  her,  Carna  sank  into  a  state  of  un- 
consciousness that  was  neither  sleeping  nor  waking. 
She  might  have  been  lying  an  hour  or  more  in  this 
condition,  when  it  appeared  to  her  that  somebody  was 
standing  beside  her  bed. 

It  was  a  figure  robed  in  white  and  crowned  with  a 
380 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

crown  of  thorns.  From  where  this  black  garland  of 
thorns  indented  the  white  forehead  sprang  drops  of 
blood,  and  in  the  face  was  a  look  of  intense  reproach, 
in  the  eyes  a  light  of  jealousy.  And  a  voice  said : 
"  Choose  !  Choose  between  him  and  Me  !  "  As  Carna 
gradually  opened  her  eyes,  the  light  that  suffused  this 
apparition  grew  dimmer,  the  figure  retreated  backwards 
towards  the  wall  and  grew  smaller,  until  at  last  she 
seemed  to  realize  that  it  was  the  Christ  who  had  come 
down  from  the  wall  and  spoken  to  her. 

She  rose  from  her  bed  and  knelt  before  the  crucifix 
in  prayer,  then  took  out  the  candles  and  sconces  once 
more  and  lighted  them  to  appease  the  image,  and  when 
they  were  flickering  on  either  side,  once  more  it  seemed 
contented. 

But  only  for  a  little  while. 

Presently  it  seemed  to  be  repeating  the  words  that 
the  apparition  had  spoken  by  the  bedside. 

"  Choose  !     Choose  between  him  and  Me ! " 

She  tried  to  lead  His  mind  away  from  it,  glorifying 
and  praising  and  thanking  Him,  bowing  down  to  Him 
and  speaking  of  other  things,  reminding  Him  of  her 
devotion  ever  since  she  was  a  child,  of  her  mother's  love 
for  Him,  of  her  father's  love  for  Him,  of  a  score  of 
different  things  that  had  happened  in  her  young  life- 
time all  tending  to  prove  her  love  and  reverence  for 
Him. 

These  words  she  poured  out  flowingly  and  without 
a  pause,  as  though  she  feared  an  interruption,  and  when 
she  could  think  of  nothing  new,  she  would  tell  Him  the 
same  things  over  and  over  again. 

The  breeze  was  stronger  to-night,  and  sometimes  made 
the  candles  gutter  with  a  blue  flame  as  if  they  were 
going  out,  and  in  such  moments  the  face  of  the  image 
seemed  to  her  almost  angry,  and  with  every  change  in 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

the  light  it  took  a  different  expression,  now  doubting, 
now  melting,  now  suspicious,  jealous,  passionate,  tem- 
pestuous, and  awful. 

For  a  long  time  she  continued  her  fervent  prayer. 
Then  at  last  she  paused,  exhausted. 

And  again  she  heard  :  "  Choose  !  Choose  between 
him  and  Me  !  " 

Then  for  a  moment  her  passion  overcame  her ;  she 
lost  control  of  herself,  raised  her  arms,  and  crying  — 
"  j  Ea !    I  have  chosen,  and  'tis  not  Thee !  "  she  sprang 
towards  the  crucifix  and  blew  out  first  one  candle  and 
then  the  other. 

And  when  she  fell  once  more  upon  her  knees  the 
darkness  and  silence  were  so  majestic  and  so  awful 
that  she  trembled  at  what  she  had  done,  and  knelt 
staring  towards  the  black  crucifix  aghast. 

Then  at  last  she  rose  and  fled  from  the  room,  for 
there  was  a  wrathful  Presence  that  appalled  her,  a  lumi- 
nous agonized  face  with  a  crown  of  black  thorns  that 
moved  towards  her  through  the  shadows. 

When  she  flung  herself  beside  the  bed  of  Dona  Felipa 
she  was  calling  for  mercy  and  burying  her  face  in  the 
sheets.  Dofta  Felipa  sat  up  in  bed  and  rested  upon  one 
arm  astonished. 

"  I  have  affronted  my  Redeemer,"  sobbed  Carna,  and 
this  was  all  she  would  say. 

"  Come !  "  said  Dofta  Felipa,  stroking  her  head  and 
soothing  her ;  "  you  are  overwrought,  child.  Come,  let 
us  tell  our  beads  together." 

She  got  down  from  the  bed  and  fetched  her  rosary. 
The  two  women  knelt  side  by  side. 

"Nuestra  Seftora  Santisima—  "  began  Dofta  Felipa. 

Carna  turned  towards  her  and  flung  her  arms  around 
her  neck. 

"  Must  I  forsake  my  lover  ? " 
382 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"Aye,  child!" 

"  And  learn  to  curse  his  name  ? " 

"  He  is  an  enemy  to  God.  You  must  try  to  forget 
him." 

"  Tell  me  where  oblivion  is  on  sale,  that  I  may  buy 
me  some ! " 

"  He  is  a  doomed  soul !  " 

"  And  if  I  wed  him  I  go  to  hell  with  him  ? " 

"  Yes.  Be  rid  of  him  at  once.  There  is  something 
terrible  about  him  that  I  may  not  tell  you." 

"Ah!" 

"  And  —  for  fear  he  return,  for  Satan  is  ever  persist- 
ent—  I  would  give  you  some  wholesome  advice." 

"  What  ? " 

"  Send  a  message  to  your  cousin." 

"  Ah !  You  are  a  wicked  woman !  You  wicked, 
wicked  woman !  " 

"  Let  us  pray.  Nuestra  Seftora  Santisima,  madre 
carinosa  de  Jesus,  esposa  bien  querida  de  Dios,  os  roga- 
mos  —  " 

"  No !  no !  "  cried  Carna  hoarsely,  "  I  may  not  pray." 

"  Why  ? " 

"  I  have  blasphemed." 


"  j  Maria  Santisima !  " 


"  I  have  insulted  the  Saviour !  " 

"  I  cannot  believe  it  of  you !  " 

"  Yes  !  yes !     And  I  dare  not  go  back  to  my  room." 

"Why,  child?" 

"  Because  He  is  waiting  inside  the  door." 

"  Nay,  this  is  foolery." 

"I  tell  you  He  is,"  cried  Carna  passionately,  almost 
with  a  scream,  and  lifted  up  her  arms,  clasping  her 
hands  behind  her  head. 

Then  Dofta  Felipa  saw  in  the  moonlight  that  her 
pupils  were  dilated. 

383 


THE   PAGAN    AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  Come !  come !  "  she  said,  seizing  hold  of  Carna's 
wrist.  "  Let  us  come  together  and  make  sure." 

Reluctantly  the  young  girl  allowed  herself  to  be  led 
back  into  her  room,  holding  one  hand  across  her  eyes. 

"  Look !  "  said  Dona  Felipa  when  they  stood  inside. 

Carna  slowly  uncovered  her  eyes. 

In  the  embrasure  of  the  window  hung  the  sleeping 
canary  in  his  cage,  around  the  window  frame  peeped 
in  the  vine  leaves  and  tendrils,  gently  rustled  by  the 
levante  that  floated  in  from  the  shore.  Framed  by  this 
window  was  a  stretch  of  the  Milky  Way,  and  below  the 
Milky  Way  the  horizon  where  a  dim  sky  met  the  silvery 
glistening  sea.  Beneath  this  again  was  a  foreground 
of  dusky  orchard,  and  from  the  orchard  rose  the  hoot 
of  an  owl. 

Carna  stared  only  towards  the  crucifix. 

"  Well  ?  "  asked  Dona  Felipa,  looking  at  her. 

"Let  Susana  sit  with  me  to-night.     I  cannot  sleep." 


384 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

"  Thou,  thou,  my  Jesus,  wholly  me 
Didst  embrace  upon  the  tree ; 
Thou  didst  bear  the  nail,  the  spear, 
Bitter  shame,  and  shrinking  fear, 
Grief's  innumerable  train, 
Bloody  sweat  and  racking  pain ; 
Yea,  and  death  ;  and  these  for  me  — 
For  the  sinner  against  Thee. 
Why,  then,  shouldst  not  Thou  by  me, 
Jesus,  most  beloved  be  ? " 

S.   WlLBERFORCE. 

THE   Jesuits'  Chapel  was  one  of  the  wonders  of 
Santa    Fe.     Its    exterior  was    not   remarkable, 
save   for  the   night   effect   of   the  great  altar  window 
when  candles  were  burning  within. 

Inside,  however,  its  beauty  rivalled  the  Cartuja  at 
Granada,  though  its  wealth  was  differently  displayed. 

The  organ  in  a  gallery  above  the  main  doors  was 
accessible  from  the  upper  corridor  of  the  College.  Like 
everything  else  in  the  chapel,  it  was  a  monument  to 
patience  and  persistence. 

Opposite  to  the  mystic  organ,  which  towered  in  the 
darkness  of  the-gallery,  stood  the  altar,  and  this  indeed 
was  what  made  the  chapel  famous. 

Three  times  had  it  gradually  bedecked  itself,  putting 
on  gold  and  silver  and  jasper;  twice  had  it  been 
wrecked;  and  now,  ever  since  the  Jesuits'  last  return 
to  Spain,  little  by  little  one  elaboration  had  followed 
another  until  it  reached  a  magnificence  that  the  good 
fathers  had  scarcely  dared  to  hope  for. 
2  c  385 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Indeed,  there  were  more  reasons  than  one  why  they 
should  never  have  anticipated  such  splendour,  and  in 
some  things  it  was  only  the  personality  of  Padre 
Ignacio  that  had  made  the  combination  possible. 

For  the  rules  of  the  Jesuits  are  at  once  rigid  and 
elastic.  Rigid  as  steel  till  indulgence  be  obtained, 
elastic  afterwards.  Thus  the  Sacred  Congregation  of 
Rites  has  prohibited  altar  cloths  having  the  upper 
side  of  silk.  Yet  the  silk  lining  of  the  chapel  altar 
cloth  had  climbed  round  the  edge  and  had  so  extended 
itself  over  the  outer  surface  that  a  few  square  inches 
of  linen  in  the  centre  were  all  that  remained. 

The  golden  temple,  lined  with  white  silk,  in  which 
reposed  the  host,  offended  no  rules  at  all ;  but  cer- 
tain trinkets  had  been  criticised  by  those  who  were 
sticklers  in  such  matters. 

Above  the  altar  was  the  stained  glass  window 
which,  at  night,  looked  black  and  sombre.  At  the 
back  of  the  altar  were  three  panels. 

The  left-hand  panel  represented  the  Nativity  at 
Bethlehem.  It  was  carved  out  of  a  hard  white  wood 
most  beautifully  enamelled.  The  crown  of  the  Ma- 
donna was  made  of  real  pearls,  the  staves  of  the 
Magi  were  tipped  with  gold-leaf  and  amethyst,  and 
the  Star  in  the  East,  if  not  of  diamonds,  was  of  some 
brilliant  crystal  that  sparkled  most  vividly  in  the  light 
of  the  surrounding  candles. 

The  right-hand  panel  showed  Christ's  agony  in 
the  Garden  of  Gethsemane,  the  sleeping  disciples, 
the  rabble,  headed  by  Judas,  approaching  in  the  dis- 
tance. Some  said  that  the  drops  of  blood  upon  the 
Saviour's  forehead  were  rubies,  and  certain  it  is  that 
His  halo  was  of  pearls,  those  of  the  disciples  being 
of  silver.  The  trees  in  the  garden  bore  golden  fruit. 

But  the  great  central  figure  was  sublime  in  its 
386 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

simplicity.  In  size  it  was  somewhat  smaller  than 
the  stature  of  a  man,  the  crown  of  thorns  was  worked 
in  simple  black  ebony  wonderfully  carved,  the  nails 
were  of  ebony,  the  cross  itself  was  of  jet-black  oak. 

And  when  I  have  said  this,  I  have  told  you  well- 
nigh  everything  that  I  can  truthfully  describe. 

For  the  wondrous  carving  of  the  Saviour's  body, 
the  dreadful  wounds,  the  inexplicable  look  upon  His 
face  where  the  drops  of  blood  ran  down  from  the 
thorns  upon  His  forehead,  these  are  matters  that  I 
have  gazed  and  pondered  upon,  but  could  never 
impart  to  you.  Think  only  of  something  so  awful, 
so  piteous,  so  lovely,  and  so  agonized,  that  the  hand 
which  wrought  and  painted  it  can  surely  be  no  hand 
which  must  turn  to  dust. 

The  jewels  and  ornaments  around  the  altar  to  right 
and  left,  the  twisted  columns  of  jasper  between  the 
panels,  the  miracles  in  fretwork  of  alabaster  beneath 
it,  the  golden  host,  the  steps  of  wax-like  marble,  the 
agate  candlesticks,  each  with  a  lighted  candle,  the 
rich  paintings  on  the  wall  on  either  side,  the  mirrors 
of  burnished  silver,  these  I  mention  but  in  passing, 
yet  each  was  marvellous  in  its  beauty  and  of  its  kind. 

The  earlier  part  of  August  was  an  anniversary  of 
great  importance  in  the  College. 

In  the  first  place,  the  return  of  the  Jesuits  to  Santa 
Fe  had  taken  place  on  the  fifth.  On  the  sixth  came 
the  Transfiguration  of  Our  Lord,  and  on  the  seventh 
the  "  Name  of  Jesus." 

Then,  after  an  interval  of  three  days,  came  the  feast 
of  San  Lorenzo,  patron  saint  of  an  important  parish  in 
Santa  Fe  and  namesake  of  the  Bishop. 

It  had  been  the  custom,  on  the  day  of  the  Trans- 
figuration, to  hold  mass  both  morning  and  evening, 
and  for  several  years  past  Padre  Ignacio's  presence 

387 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

in  the  pulpit,  the  charm  of  his  voice  and  manner  and 
high  intelligence,  had  attracted  a  small  gathering  of 
outsiders  to  the  chapel  on  this  anniversary. 

The  sermon,  instead  of  being  delivered  immediately 
after  the  gospel,  was  reserved  for  those  who  chose  to 
stay,  which  most  people  did ;  for  to  stroll  down  the  hill 
through  Cinco  Caminos  shortly  before  bedtime  in  August, 
especially  when  the  moon  is  at  the  full  and  the  west  wind 
is  gently  blowing  from  the  orange  groves,  is  a  penance 
passing  easy  to  undergo.  To  the  aged  it  is  more  elo- 
quent than  the  sermon,  and  tells  them  of  their  God ; 
to  the  young  it  is  a  madrigal,  and  whispers  of  their  love. 

The  Father  Rector  being  in  Sevilla,  it  fell  to  the 
lot  of  Padre  Martinez  to  preach.  The  Catalan  was  kneel- 
ing in  a  dark  side  seat,  not  far  from  the  altar,  awaiting 
the  conclusion  of  the  mass.  The  third  part  of  the  ser- 
vice had  begun. 

The  officiating  priest,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross 
with  the  paten,  had  laid  the  wafer  upon  the  corporal. 
On  the  Epistle  side  of  the  altar  the  deacon  was  pre- 
paring the  wine ;  the  sub-deacon  was  waiting  with  the 
water.  Three  candles  burned  upon  the  right  hand 
of  the  altar,  three  upon  the  left,  but  there  were  nearly 
a  score  of  tall  silver  candlesticks  with  huge  lighted 
candles  close  to  the  altar  on  either  side. 

Amongst  the  congregation  were  Carna,  Dona  Felipa, 
and  Susana. 

Once  or  twice  during  the  service  Dofla  Felipa,  lean- 
ing towards  Carna,  had  managed  to  whisper  something 
in  her  ear.  Each  time  that  she  did  this,  her  words  pro- 
duced an  expression  of  still  deeper  distress  in  the  young 
girl's  face.  Each  time,  also,  the  older  woman  seemed, 
with  a  scarcely  perceptible  smile,  to  await  some  develop- 
ment or  reply,  her  eyes  resting  upon  Carna's  face  intently, 
then  turning  towards  the  altar. 

388 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Slowly,  liked  a  tired  pendulum,  the  censer  swayed 
from  side  to  side ;  up  rose  the  heavy  wreathing  smoke 
of  exorcised  frankincense,  smoke  whereby  every  illusion 
that  the  Enemy  uses  to  assault  the  soul  and  body  may 
be  put  to  flight.  The  form  of  the  acolyte  who  swung 
the  censer  stood  out  against  the  background  of  candles 
like  some  large  blot,  his  robe  and  features  invisible,  his 
outline  marked  by  a  dazzling  fringe  of  slender  lines,  a 
hoar-frost  of  golden  light.  The  impenetrable  darkness 
of  the  chapel  seemed  to  Carna  to  be  listening.  Out  in 
that  blackness  beyond  the  faintly  looming  pillars  the 
Enemy  himself  might  be  watching,  and  hearing  what 
was  passing  yonder  at  the  altar.  In  the  unseen  rafters 
of  the  roof  a  myriad  of  black  eyes  and  ears  might  be 
marking  every  movement  of  the  priest,  every  whisper 
of  the  novices. 

Having  kissed  the  altar,  the  priest  turned  towards 
the  people,  and,  stretching  out  his  hands,  said,  "  Breth- 
ren, pray  that  my  sacrifice  and  yours  may  be  acceptable 
to  God  the  Father  Almighty." 

Carna  could  not  reply. 

A  dark  spirit,  swiftly  falling  towards  her  from  the  black 
roof,  held  her  lips  together  and  would  not  let  her  speak. 

"  May  the  Lord  receive  the  sacrifice  from  thy  hands, 
to  the  praise  and  glory  of  His  name,  and  to  our  benefit, 
and  to  that  of  all  His  Holy  Church." 

Again  Carna  tried  to  join  in  the  response.     In  vain  ! 

She  felt  that  Dona  Felipa  had  noticed  the  omission, 
she  knew  that  her  eyes  were  bent  upon  her.  She  felt 
that  the  Saviour  at  the  altar  had  waited  for  her  reply 
with  growing  sorrow.  It  was  not  that  she  would  not, 
it  was  that  she  could  not  join  in  the  response.  This 
black  fiend,  she  could  not  shake  him  off ;  he  held  her 
lips  with  jeering  determination.  When  he  released  her, 
it  was  too  late  to  do  anything  but  moan. 

389 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  Let  us  pray,"  said  the  priest. 

Then  arose  a  murmuring  all  around  her,  whilst  the 
people  bowed  their  heads,  whispering  their  mysterious 
secreta. 

And  still  she  was  smitten  dumb.  She  could  only  press 
her  hands  together  and  choke  and  tremble. 

If  Christ  knew  that  she  was  there,  did  He  resent  her 
presence  ? 

Then  came  the  Canon  of  the  Mass.  The  Host  was 
elevated,  and  the  bell  rang  thrice. 

"  For  this  is  My  body  !  " 

She  trembled  and  almost  sobbed.  In  that  still  and 
awful  moment  after  the  ringing  of  the  altar  bell,  with 
every  head  bowed,  every  voice  hushed,  she  could  not 
concentrate  her  attention  upon  the  Host. 

She  was  thinking  miserably  and  aimlessly  of  some 
awful  calamity  that  hovered  above  her,  high  up  in  the 
thick  mystery  among  the  rafters. 

Surely  that  vast  weight  of  coal-black  night  that  hung 
like  a  mystic  pall  above  the  chapel  could  not  be  innocent ! 
Just  as  it  absorbed  the  departing  smoke  of  incense  and 
ate  up  the  fragile  light  of  the  altar  candles  that 
seemed  so  far  away,  so,  also,  it  gathered  into  its 
womb  the  most  trivial  details  of  this  solemn  mass,  and 
always  appeared  to  be  listening,  listening,  and  still 
heavily  listening. 

At  length  the  Mass  was  ended.  A  few  people  rose 
and  left. 

Padre  Martinez  went  into  the  pulpit ;  beside  his  face 
was  a  single  wax  candle. 

He  prayed  and  crossed  himself,  then  he  commenced 
his  homily.  The  conclusion  of  the  Mass,  the  move- 
ments of  the  priest,  the  climbing  of  Padre  Martinez 
into  the  pulpit  —  all  had  seemed  to  pass  dimly  before 
Carna's  eyes  as  in  a  trance. 

390 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Now  she  began  to  listen.  She  could  not  pray,  but 
she  could  listen. 

Commencing  with  the  subject  of  the  day,  the  Trans- 
figuration of  Our  Lord,  Padre  Martinez,  by  an  easy 
sequence,  led  to  the  blessings  of  self-sacrifice,  the  glory 
of  conquering  the  flesh. 

At  first  he  spoke  of  men.     Then  — 

"Not  only  men"  said  he,  "were  deficient  in  that 
moral  fortitude  which  enables  the  spirit  to  stand  trium- 
phant and  victorious  with  one  foot  upon  the  flesh,  but 
cultured  women,  even  those  who  seemed  to  the  world  so 
devoted  to  their  Master  as  to  scorn  all  material  pleasures 
on  this  earth,  were  often  the  worst  offenders." 

And  then  he  went  on  to  compare  the  unhesitating 
sacrifice  made  by  the  Shepherd,  with  the  selfish  reluc- 
tance displayed,  on  occasions,  by  His  flock. 

He  painted  the  dreadful  agonies  upon  the  cross,  paus- 
ing between  each  period  and  the  next  to  let  his  con- 
gregation gaze  upon  the  marvellous  sculpture  above  the 
altar. 

Then,  from  the  semi-obscurity  of  the  pulpit,  where 
the  single  candle  flame  cast  a  yellowish  glow  upon  the 
speaker's  uplifted  hand,  his  deep  voice  would  solemnly 
conjure  them  all  to  think  of  the  awful  fate  that  had 
befallen  the  Redeemer. 

"  Who,  after  realizing  it,  could  hesitate  to  deny  him- 
self the  gratification  of  his  dearest  heart's  desire,  if,  so 
be  it,  that  the  glory  of  God  required  it  ?  '  Who  shall 
separate  us  from  the  love  of  Christ  ?  Shall  tribulation, 
or  distress,  or  persecution,  or  famine,  or  nakedness,  or 
peril,  or  sword  ?  As  it  is  written,  For  Thy  sake  we  are 
killed  all  the  day  long ;  we  are  accounted  as  sheep  for 
the  slaughter.  Nay,  in  all  these  things  we  are  more 
than  conquerors  through  Him  that  loved  us ! ' 

"Ah!     How  little  did  some  people  realize  what  was 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

the  greatest  joy  upon  this  earth  !  How  little  did  the 
selfish  multitude  think  that  a  joy  comparable  to  the 
infinite  joy  of  Paradise  was  here  awaiting  us  if  only  we 
would  grasp  it !  All  human  joys  were  evanescent.  In 
anticipation  they  gave  much  promise ;  when  realized, 
they  were  hollow  and  disgusting.  Yet  there  was  one 
joy  attainable  upon  this  earth,  oh  !  a  miglity  joy,  which 
partook  not  of  this  nature." 

The  speaker  paused,  and  in  the  reflection  of  the  altar 
lights  he  saw  that  all  the  dim  faces  were  turned  towards 
him.  The  body  of  the  chapel  was  void  of  light  and 
sound. 

There  was  one  face  which  was  covered  by  a  pair  of 
trembling  hands. 

"This  joy,  then,  what  was  it?  Alas!  it  needed  a 
little  courage  to  attain  it,  and  thus  it  was  that  so  few 
might  ever  reach  it.  Only  a  little  poor  struggling 
courage  of  self-denial !  This  was  all  the  preface !  " 

When  he  came  to  these  words  he  spoke  with  a  quiet 
scornful  pity  of  human  weakness,  a  tone  of  sadness  and 
yet  almost  of  amusement.  Then  he  went  on. 

"  There  were  very  few  there  before  him  but  had 
some  worldly  pursuit  or  pleasure  which  was  out  of 
keeping  with  their  love  of  Christ.  Some  proclivity  or 
inclination  or  affection  which  caused  the  Redeemer  to 
look  down  upon  them  with  a  heavy  heart. 

"  Let  them  conquer  this  defect,  let  them  wrestle  with 
and  overcome  it,  glorying  in  the  pain  inflicted  upon  the 
flesh.  Then,  when  the  spirit  stood  triumphant  and 
looked  down  upon  the  flesh  where  it  lay  writhing  and 
vanquished,  that  was  the  greatest  and  most  lasting  joy 
attainable  upon  this  earth.  To  look  upon  the  Saviour 
where  He  hung  upon  the  Cross  and  say,  '  Dear  Jesus, 
to-day  have  I  pierced  myself  ever  so  little,  yet  I  have 
pierced  myself.  Not  as  they  pierced  Thy  lovely  limbs 

392 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

and  side  and  hands.  Yet  have  I  punished  the  flesh, 
and  behold,  my  spirit  rejoices  beyond  all  understand- 
ing ! '  Ah !  might  they  live  to  revel  in  that  moment ! 
Might  they  one  day  know  what  it  was,  this  blessed, 
blessed  chastisement." 

When  the  priest  said  this  he  saw  that  the  face 
which  had  been  covered  by  the  hands  was  bent 
towards  the  ground.  Only  a  trembling  mantilla  could 
be  seen. 

"  What  were  we  told  of  St.  Agnes  ?  That  she 
gazed  with  a  mighty  gloating  upon  the  fire  and  racks 
and  instruments  that  her  persecutors  were  preparing. 

"What  were  we  told  of  St.  Paula?  St.  Paula,  at 
first,  was  weak.  Her  mind  was  wholly  absorbed  in 
earthly  love  of  her  own  husband.  She  did  not  discern 
the  secret  attachments  of  her  heart,1  nor  feel  the  weight 
of  her  own  chains ;  she  had  neither  courage  to  break 
them,  nor  light  whereby  to  take  a  clear  and  distinct  view 
of  her  poverty  and  misery. 

"  God,  compassionating  her  weakness,  was  pleased 
in  His  mercy  to  open  her  eyes  by  violence,  and  sent 
her  the  greatest  affliction  that  could  befall  her,  in  the 
death  of  her  husband.  Her  grief  was  immoderate 
until  such  time  as  she  was  encouraged  to  devote  her- 
self totally  to  God.  Paula  erected  in  her  heart  the 
standard  of  the  cross  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  courageously 
resolved  to  walk  after  it." 

He  then  went  on  to  speak  with  scornful  pity  of  those 
good  souls  who  thought  that  our  love  for  Christ  should 
be  fair-weather  love. 

"  Let  not  those  who  flattered  themselves  that  godli- 
ness, so  long  as  it  were  easy,  was  all  that  was  demanded 
of  us.  No  doubt  some  people  existed  who  thought  that 
a  pleasant  walk  to  church  once  or  twice  a  week,  a  few 

1  Butler's  Lives  of  the  Saints. 
393 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

spare  reals  in  charity,  a  nightly  telling  of  the  rosary, 
were  all  that  was  needed.  Why  friends,  what  an  easy 
goal  to  win  is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven !  " 

Padre  Martinez  almost  broke  into  laugh,  so  that  every 
one  knew  that  his  words  were  spoken  in  irony.  The 
smile  died  away  before  he  spoke  again. 

"  What  did  Christ  answer  to  the  rich  young  man  who 
came  to  Him  seeking  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  ?  Simply 
to  give  up  the  one  thing  that  he  held  dearest  upon  this 
earth !  " 

Aye !  To  surrender  one's  riches  !  That  she  could 
do.  But  utterly  to  forsake  her  lover  ?  Might  God 
have  mercy  upon  her ! 

"  The  rich  man  must  desert  his  wealth,  the  father  his 
son,  the  daughter  her  mother,  the  mother  her  child,  the 
wife  her  husband." 

Ah,  dreadful  pall  of  darkness!  What  is  this  that 
thou  hast  been  hiding  in  thy  womb  ?  The  horror  of 
last  night,  awaiting  her  in  the  chapel ! 

"  Choose !  " 

The  preacher  had  not  pronounced  that  word.  Whence 
had  it  come  ?  She  looked  towards  the  altar,  trembled, 
and  understood. 

"What  ails  thee,  child?"  whispered  Dofia  Felipa, 
holding  her  by  the  arm. 

The  priest  noted  this  slight  movement  although  the 
light  was  dim,  and  paused  to  look  down  at  them. 

After  the  sermon  was  over  the  organist,  by  permis- 
sion of  Padre  Martinez,  remained  at  his  seat,  playing 
as  in  a  reverie,  gliding  from  mass  to  sonata,  from  sonata 
back  again  to  mass. 

His  gown  changed,  his  brow  slightly  knitted  in  a 
pensive  frown,  the  Catalan  priest  was  passing  out  of 
the  chapel  when  a  novice  whispered  to  him.  Padre 
Martinez  raised  his  eyebrows. 

394 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  To  confess  ?  At  this  hour  ? "  he  said  in  apparent 
surprise. 

"  Yes." 

"  Who  is  she  ?  " 

Yet  before  the  question  left  his  lips  the  priest  had 
told  himself  the  answer.  The  novice  pointed  to  a  con- 
fessional box,  abreast  of  a  dark  pillar.  Padre  Martinez 
recognized  Carna  kneeling  beside  it.  The  novice,  at  a 
sign  of  dismissal,  turned  and  went  away.  The  last  of  the 
congregation  had  departed.  The  Jesuits  were  slowly 
filing  out. 

*******          * 

The  chapel  was  deserted. 

Up  in  the  organ  gallery  a  tiny  glimmer  of  light 
reflected  along  the  dull  metal  pipes  showed  whence 
the  rumbling  chords  rose  up  into  the  dark  rafters. 
Dreamily,  mournfully,  the  organ  played,  now  growing 
bolder,  now  sinking  into  a  dirge. 

A  novice  stood  by  the  organist,  and  when  this  novice 
moved  from  side  to  side,  the  glimmer  of  the  candle 
disappeared,  and  a  gigantic  shadow  robbed  the  walls 
and  pillars  of  what  little  light  had  been  spread  upon 
them  from  the  back. 

On  the  east  side,  however,  a  white  glow  fell  upon 
these  pillars  from  the  altar.  A  novice  came  in  at  the 
chapel  door  to  put  out  the  candles.  He  carried  a 
lighted  taper  to  guide  him  in  the  sacristy  and  upon 
his  return. 

Then,  seeing  the  priest  in  the  confessional  bending 
towards  the  fretwork  grating  and  the  kneeling  penitent 
outside,  he  paused  for  a  moment  in  surprise. 

Padre  Martinez  caught  the  glimmer  of  the  lighted 
taper  on  the  woodwork  and  looked  up.  His  eyes  met 
those  of  the  young  priest,  who  seemed  to  hesitate. 

The  older  priest  raised  one  hand  to  the  window  of 

395 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

the  box,  the  forefinger  stiffened,  the  other  fingers 
closed.  He  cautiously  shook  this  hand  from  side  to 
side,  looking  down  through  the  grating,  as  one  motions 
away  an  intruder  when  a  fish  is  about  to  bite. 

The  novice  turned  round.  He  understood  that  the 
altar  was  to  remain  lighted.  But  still  he  did  not  move. 
Padre  Martinez  looked  up  quickly. 

The  novice  was  pointing  to  the  organ  gallery.  In 
dumb  show  he  was  asking  if  he  should  stop  the  practice. 

Padre  Martinez  seemed  to  think  for  a  moment,  then 
shook  his  great  forefinger  again  and  pointed  to  the 
door.  The  novice  blew  out  the  taper,  looked  towards 
the  altar,  rapidly  went  down  upon  one  knee  and 
crossed  himself.  Then  he  went  out  and  pulled  the 
red  curtains  together.  The  brass  rings  sounded  along 
the  pole,  the  massive  latch  of  the  door  was  heard  to  fall 
stealthily  in  its  socket,  the  organ  rumbled  gently  and 
everything  else  was  silent  and  expectant,  desolate  and 
awful. 

The  Jesuit  was  speaking  through  the  grating. 

"  Even  this  will  He  forgive,  for  His  mercy  is  bounteous, 
His  love  all-pervading,  and  His  sufferance  coequal  with 
His  might." 

Carna,  with  her  hands  upon  the  sill  and  her  face 
buried  in  her  hands,  was  gently  sobbing. 

"  Yet  even  to  the  immensity  of  His  sufferance  there 
is  a  limit,  else  would  the  heavens  be  peopled  with  atheists 
and  infidels." 

Carna  trembled. 

"  And  there  is  one  who  may  not  go  thither,  for  he  is 
doomed  to  Hell !  " 

"  j  Ay  !     j  Dios  mfo  !  " 

"  To  Hell  everlasting  and  most  profound.  Hell, 
where  the  conscious  senses  are  imprisoned  with  the 
corpse  to  watch  its  slow  putrefaction  and  go  mad  with 

396 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

the  nameless  horrors  of  the  grave  ;  Hell,  whence  the 
dumb  spirit  is  allowed  to  wander  and  read,  in  the  minds 
of  the  nearest  and  dearest  left  behind,  suspicions  of 
such  foulness  of  itself  that  it  flees  shuddering  back  to 
Hell  as  to  a  home;  Hell,  where  one  sits  and  sees  dread 
tragedies,  murders,  suicides,  executions,  all  of  those 
whom  one  loved  best  on  earth  —  a  word  would  stop  the 
knife  or  save  the  prisoner,  and  that  one  word  is  the 
word  that  may  not  be  spoken ;  Hell,  where  the  myriad 
tortures  of  the  flesh  we  know  are  blessed  comfort 
compared  with  the  tortured  imagination  of  the  fallen. 
To  this  Hell  —  your  lover  is  doomed  by  God.  And 
naught  may  save  him." 

"  It  cannot  be." 

"  '  Cannot '  !  It  is  !  God  himself  has  spoken  to  you 
and  has  given  you  a  sign." 

"  Yet  He  is  a  merciful  God." 

"  Most  merciful." 

"  And  He  would  send  my  husband  to  this  Hell  ? " 

"  Aye  !     You  do  not  know  the  worst  of  him." 

"Tell  me!" 

"  It  is  too  base  to  tell  you  in  this  place." 

"  That  he  blasphemed  ? " 

"  Aye  !     Let  us  not  talk  of  it." 

"  Why  —  so  did  /  blaspheme ! " 

"  And  you  are  forgiven." 

"  Then  so  should  he  be." 

"  His  blasphemy  was  too  appalling." 

"  I  have  affronted  the  Saviour.  Are  there  degrees  in 
such  reviling  ? " 

"  Betwixt  yours  and  his,  yes !  The  difference  be- 
tween venial  sin  and  mortal,  between  temporary  punish- 
ment and  eternal,  between  Purgatory  and  Hell." 

"  Yet  my  sin  was  without  provocation.     And  his  f  " 

"  Most  foul  and  wanton  !  " 
397 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

These  sombre  words  came  slowly  through  the  grating 
and  seemed  to  chill  her,  for  she  shuddered  at  them. 
Spoken  in  a  tone  that  was  not  loud,  yet  spoken  with' 
such  intensity  that  one  might  have  heard  them  at  the 
altar,  they  echoed  through  the  shadows  of  the  chapel 
like  some  awful  accusation  before  God's  throne. 

And,  to  Carna,  such  they  were. 

Whilst  the  penitent  knelt  sobbing  in  silence  the  priest 
watched  her  bowed  head  through  the  grating.  Not 
callously,  gloatingly,  or  cruelly,  but  simply  with  that 
intense  observation  peculiar  to  Padre  Martinez  when 
bent  upon  a  purpose.  Evidently  he  had  concluded, 
whatever  might  be  his  object  in  that  moment,  that  it 
was  best  not  to  interrupt. 

An  onlooker  might  almost  have  imagined  that  those 
eager  black  eyes  had  not  only  pierced  the  lattice  and 
the  mantilla,  but  that  they  had  focussed  themselves  in 
the  brain  beneath  that  trembling  sheen  of  hair. 

Just  as  the  chemist  watches  the  changing  colour  in 
his  test-tube,  expectant  but  passionless,  so  Padre  Mar- 
tinez seemed  to  be  patiently  observing  the  current  of 
nervous  ideas  and  impulses  that  ebbed  and  flowed  be- 
neath his  gaze. 

No  sign  of  disappointment  or  surprise  showed  in  his 
face  when  the  next  of  these  impulses  proved  to  be  one 
of  rebellion.  The  eyes  seemed  to  have  anticipated  it. 
They  merely  noted  its  manner  of  development  with 
studious  interest. 

Carna  raised  her  face  and  lifted  her  hands  to  the 
grating  above  her  head,  clinging  to  it  unconsciously  as 
though  it  were  the  Rock  of  Ages. 

"  Then  —  if  he  be  doomed  to  Hell  —  " 

"  Wltat,  my  child  ? " 

"  Let  me  go  too !  " 

Carna  commenced  to  laugh.     It  sounded  most  hor- 
398 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

rible  through  the  dark  chapel.  The  organist  paused  to 
listen.  The  Jesuit  came  from  the  confessional  and 
caught  her  by  the  wrist,  crying,  "  Hush !  "  and  looking 
at  her  steadily.  She  obeyed,  for  his  eyes  subdued  her. 

After  a  pause  Padre  Martinez  spoke  — 

"  '  Let  you  go,  too,'  my  child  ?  And  even  if  you 
might,  do  you  think  that  this  awful  problem  which 
God  lays  before  you  may  thus  be  satisfied?  Do  you 
think,  perchance,  that  with  the  sacrifice  of  your  inno- 
cent and  insignificant  self  —  a  grain  of  sand  along  God's 
shore  of  souls  —  do  you  think  it  is  thus  that  His  awful 
will  is  carried  out  ? " 

"  Oh,  remember  that  I  am  fatherless.  Alone  in  this 
world  and  at  the  mercy  of  those  who  are  rending  my 
heart !  Oh,  think,  is  this  the  operation  of  some  all-wise 
physician,  that  butchers  my  flesh  to  save  my  life  ?  Or 
is  it  the  working  of  a  crime  more  black  and  merciless 
than  all  the  foul  treachery  of  Hell  in  holy  guise  ? " 

"  This,  this,  in  this  place,  in  this  confessional  ? " 

"  Aye !  If  God  demands  of  me  this  sacrifice,  why 
should  its  naming  smell  so  foul  in  His  nostrils  ?  To  my 
lover,  whose  wife  I  have  sworn  to  be  (and  before  God 
he  is  my  husband),  what  you  ask  of  me  —  his  instant 
supplanting  —  this  is  for  him  a  treachery  as  foul  as  Hell 
itself,  and  do  you  not  know,  good  Father,  that  it  may  end 
in  more  than  weeping  ? " 

Padre  Martinez  paused,  and  then,  as  though  obeying 
some  well-calculated  move,  waved  his  hand  imperiously 
towards  the  chapel  door,  frowning  upon  her  with  a  look 
of  wrath  and  indignation. 

"  Ah,  no  !  no !  no !  "  sobbed  Caraa,  as  the  reaction 
surged  over  her,  and  she  struggled  towards  the  Jesuit 
on  her  knees. 

"Woman!"  he  cried,  still  wrathful,  and  holding  up 
his  hand.  "  You  spoke  of  its  being  an  operation,  that 

399 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

butchers  your  suffering  flesh  to  save  your  spiritual  life. 
When  will  your  poor  dim  sight  look  outwards  beyond 
the  narrow  pale  of  human  selfishness  ?  Can  you  not 
see  how  mighty  an  issue  depends  upon  your  action  ? 
'  To  save  your  life ' !  Aye,  that  it  will  do,  but  that 
is  incidental.  You  are  asked  to  make  a  sacrifice 
and  —  " 

"  You  ask  me  to  do  that  which  I  have  not  strength 
to  carry  out.  Father,  dear  Father,  you  tell  me  to  do 
something  beyond  my  poor  will.  To  me  it  is  death. 
What  you  ask  of  me  is  death." 

" '  To  be  carnally  minded  is  death.'  May  God  help 
you  to  better  perception,  my  child.  Directly  He  puts 
a  hard  task  before  you,  it  is  time  for  your  poor  body 
and  soul  to  perish  rather  than  that  His  will  be  done ! 
What  value  all  your  professions,  all  your  prayers,  your 
fasting,  penitence,  and  daily  charity  ?  These  are  mere 
diversions  of  the  godly.  '  It  is  not  the  person  who  pro- 
fesses to  love '  that  loves,  it  is  the  one  who  is  willing  to 
suffer  for  that  love.  The  hour  has  come  in  which  He 
calls  upon  His  faithful  one  to  work  His  will.  With  a 
loving  smile  He  awaits  her  gentle  obedience,  His  lips 
already  opened  to  commend  her,  saying,  '  Well  done, 
thou  good  and  faithful  servant'  And  this  is  the  mo- 
ment that  you  choose  —  may  God  help  us !  —  in  which 
to  cry,  '  Let  me  go  down  to  Hell ! ' ' 

When  he  spoke  these  last  words  the  priest  bent  down 
and  whispered  hoarsely,  looking  fearfully  towards  the 
altar,  and  Carna,  whose  eyes  were  fastened  upon  him, 
felt  that  he  was  trying  to  hide  her  sin,  to  speak  it  se- 
cretly so  that  the  Saviour  might  not  hear. 

She  clasped  her  hands. 

"  And  so  long  as  I  be  in  Hell,  what  more  may  God  do 
to  me  ? " 

"  Hush ! " 

400 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"What  matter  to  me  in  Hell  that  I  have  rebelled 
against  His  will,  how  many —  j  Ay-y-y !  " 

Carna,  as  though  her  hysteria  were  mastering  her 
again,  passed  her  hand  across  her  eyes  and  uttered  a 
sudden  wail  of  misery. 

"  Come !  Come  with  me  !  "  said  Padre  Martinez,  and 
raising  her  from  her  knees  he  led  her  gently  towards 
the  altar.  Twice  upon  the  way  Carna  halted  and 
covered  her  eyes  with  her  hands.  The  glory  of  Cal- 
vary was  before  her.  She  trembled  as  she  drew  nearer 
to  the  cross. 

On  the  steps  the  priest  knelt  and  crossed  himself. 
Carna  did  the  same. 

"  Let  us  both  pray  awhile ! "  said  Padre  Martinez. 
And  for  a  few  moments  he  closed  his  eyes  and  crossed 
his  hands  upon  his  breast. 

White  lilies,  blood-red  pacfficos,  and  spear  grass  in 
silver  vases  stood  upon  each  side  of  the  altar  whence 
the  chalice  and  Host  had  been  removed. 

Neither  at  these  nor  at  the  candles  nor  at  the  precious 
stones  did  Carna  look.  Her  eyes  met  those  of  the 
image  of  Our  Lord. 

Presently  the  Jesuit  commenced  to  pray  aloud  — 

"  Senor  Nuestro,  look  down  upon  us  in  this  our  hour 
of  trial  and  grant  us  strength  wherewith  to  stand  the 
test  that  Thou  now  puttest  upon  us.  Watch  Thou  Thy 
gold  that  is  passing  through  the  furnace.  Suffer  it  not 
to  perish  and  turn  to  dross.  Teach  us,  before  it  be  too 
late,  that  each  soul  is  but  one  atom  of  the  whole,  which 
here  below  is  separated  into  parts,  and  hath  not  there- 
fore the  right  to  hide  itself  in  Hell  for  lack  of  courage. 
Steel  us,  O  Lord,  to  fight  the  good  fight,  and  let  us  not 
quail  before  the  first  proof  that  Thou  givest  us.  Grant 
us  understanding,  beloved  Saviour,  that  we  may  see 
how  the  carnal  love  is  but  given  us  to  try  our  strength. 
2  D  401 


THE  PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

Beat  down  the  passions  of  the  flesh  which  compass  us 
about,  illuminate  our  path,  and  show  us  Thy  kindly 
light.  If  so  be  that  we  must  wrestle  with  unclean 
spirits,  tear  Thou  off  their  cunningly  painted  masks. 
Aid  us  to  know  the  Evil  One  when  we  meet  him  and 
let  not  Satan  overcome  us  in  treacherous  disguise. 
Lend  us  Thy  hand  to  save  us  from  ignominious  defeat, 
for  the  flesh  is  miserable  and  cowardly  without  Thy  help." 

Carna  listened  to  this,  and,  whilst  the  priest  prayed 
the  image  seemed  to  turn  its  eyes  upon  him  to  hear 
what  he  should  say.  Then,  when  he  had  ceased,  the 
eyes  slowly  turned  to  Carna  and  looked  upon  her  sor- 
rowfully and  tenderly,  as  though  the  Redeemer  were 
filled  with  pity  to  overflowing  at  the  agony  within  her 
heart.  Yet  in  the  eyes  of  the  image,  and  in  the  eyes 
of  Padre  Martinez,  there  seemed  to  be  this  patient 
meaning  — 

"This,  our  beloved  daughter,  will  triumph  in  the 
fight.  Though  this  be  the  hour  of  her  bitterness,  soon 
cometh  the  hour  of  her  prevailing.  Now  shall  she 
realize  that  glory  of  all  glories  upon  this  earth,  the 
glory  of  Calvary,  the  ecstasy  of  the  Cross,  the  torture 
of  the  flesh  turned  to  supernatural  joy." 

Padre  Martinez  was  standing  erect  He  had  drawn 
closer  to  the  altar,  and  turning  his  head  round  to 
Carna,  motioned  with  his  hand  towards  the  right-hand 
panel. 

"  Look ! "  said  he,  "  how  the  beloved  Saviour  suffered 
in  His  hour  of  trial.  Think  you  that  He  did  not  pass 
through  far  more  bitter  pangs  than  those  you  are  en- 
during? For  my  part  I  cannot  but  believe  that  the 
greater  agony  of  Our  Lord  was  in  the  garden,  rather 
than  upon  the  cross,  and  that  the  anticipation  of  His 
woe  was  far  more  awful  than  the  woe  itself. 

"  Look  how  He  sweats  great  drops  of  blood.  As  yet 
402 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

He  is  passing  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
Death,  His  glory  as  yet  unseen.  But  a  little  while 
and  the  holy  lust  of  self-sacrifice  will  come  upon  Him. 
Then  will  His  gentle  eye  grow  calmer,  His  foot  more 
firm  as  He  treads  the  Judgment  Hall  in  front  of  Pilate. 
Look  where  the  Romans  are  coming,  the  light  glitter- 
ing upon  their  spears,  and  look  at  the  false  Judas 
approaching  to  betray  Him  with  a  kiss. 

"  And  for  what  reason  did  Judas  betray  His  Master  ? 
Even  for  an  earthly  love,  the  love  of  gold.  He  found 
not  sufficient  strength  to  prevail  against  temptation,  the 
flesh  overcame  him,  even  as  it  strives  and  tussles  to  over- 
come you.  Will  you  also  betray  your  Master  for  earthly 
bribes  ? " 

"  j  Sefior  mio  !  "  murmured  Carna,  with  her  eyes  riveted 
upon  the  face  of  the  image  and  her  hands  crossed  upon 
her  bosom. 

And  then  after  a  pause  — 

"  j  Jesus  mfo !  " 

Tears  were  rapidly  following  each  other  down  her 
cheeks,  yet  her  features  were  not  convulsed.  This  weep- 
ing was  terrible  to  behold,  it  was  terrible  as  a  sweat  of 
blood. 

Padre  Martinez  paused  for  some  moments  to  mark 
this  alteration.  Then,  with  a  lower  and  more  impressive 
voice,  in  a  pause  between  the  swellings  of  the  organ,  he 
went  on  — 

"  Look  yonder  !  " 

His  hand  was  raised  towards  the  central  crucifix.  The 
Christ,  once  more,  seemed  to  live  and  move.  The  body 
wearily  writhed  against  the  nails  in  agony. 

The  flesh  around  the  wounds  was  ashen  where  it  was 
not  daubed  with  blood,  and  almost  seemed  as  though  it 
were  battling  with  Corruption  and  casting  him  off  by 
supernatural  aid. 

403 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  I  see  the  Son  of  Man,"  said  Padre  Martinez,  letting 
his  arm  fall  by  his  side  and  half  closing  his  eyes  as  though 
looking  into  the  far  East ;  "  I  see  the  Son  of  Man  —  He 
stands  before  Pilate.  It  is  a  warm  summer's  day,  the 
heat  has  been  parching,  just  as  it  has  to-day.  Around 
the  hall  and  windows  surges  an  angry,  thirsty  crowd, 
thirsty  for  blood.  And  a  low  murmuring  like  the  dis- 
tant humming  of  bees  comes  threateningly  across  the 
Judgment  Hall  and  Pilate  has  turned  pale.  He  has 
spoken  again  to  the  mob ;  again  comes  back  a  mighty 
deafening  roar,  '  Crucify  Him ! ' 

"  He  calls  for  a  basin  of  water  and  washes  his  hands, 
trembling  and  looking  upon  the  dear  Saviour,  whose 
eyes  are  cast  down. 

"They  lead  Him  away;  they  strip  Him,  and  crown 
Him  with  thorns ;  they  spit  upon  Him,  smite  Him,  and 
mock  Him." 

Padre  Martinez  paused  and  looked  upon  Carna.  She 
was  trembling. 

"  Again  I  see  Him.  He  is  stretched  upon  the  cross. 
From  the  seething  mob  around  there  rises  a  fierce  roar 
of  exultation.  The  soldiers  beat  them  back.  Two  sol- 
diers are  bending  over  the  Saviour,  one  holds  a  great 
nail  over  His  dear  hand;  down  comes  the  hammer, 
once,  twice,  and  thrice.  The  scream  of  mortal  agony 
is  drowned  by  the  hungry  howling  of  the  multitude. 
The  hand  is  firmly  nailed  to  the  wood.  Now  they  are 
nailing  His  sides,  now  His  feet.  It  is  finished.  They 
wipe  their  blood-red  hands,  throw  down  the  tools,  spring 
to  the  ropes,  and  rear  the  cross  on  high.  Look  yonder !  " 

And  once  again  he  motioned  towards  the  crucifix. 

"  In  His  feet  a  nail,  through  each  hand  a  nail,  in  each 
side  a  nail.  What  are  our  pains  to  this  ?  This  passing 
of  the  Spirit  into  Hell,  what  are  your  sorrows  compared 
with  such  awful  woe  ? " 

404 


THE   PAGAN    AT   THE   SHRINE 

A  dreadful  spasm  seemed  to  pass  across  the  Saviour's 
face,  as  though  that  sixth  hour  had  come  when  the  sun 
should  be  darkened,  the  veil  of  the  temple  be  rent,  and 
the  graves  of  the  dead  be  opened. 

"  This  He  suffered  for  all  of  us,  that  we  might  walk 
with  Him  in  Paradise." 

"  j  Jesus  mi'o  !  " 

"Is  there  aught  in  this  life  we  cannot  surrender  for 
love  of  Him  ?  " 

The  face,  its  spasm  passed,  seemed  to  turn  once  more 
towards  Carna ;  the  eyes  looked  into  her  very  soul,  the 
expression  was  so  wondrously  beautiful  and  godlike, 
so  full  of  love  and  tender  entreaty ;  the  lips  seemed  to 
be  parted,  as  though  in  the  act  of  beseeching  her. 

The  Christ  seemed  to  be  telling  her  that  she  prolonged 
His  anguish,  that  He  must  linger  writhing  against  the 
nails  until  her  selfish  persistence  be  overcome,  yet  not 
to  take  heed  of  Him,  for  so  He  loved  her  that  gladly 
He  would  remain  in  growing  agony  to  ward  off  the 
moment  of  her  punishment.  Though  graves  had 
yawned,  rocks  had  been  shattered,  and  the  earth 
plunged  into  utter  darkness  when  He  gave  up  the 
ghost,  yet  nothing  should  interrupt  her  thoughts,  if  it 
pleased  her  still  to  hesitate. 

Thus  went  Carna's  feverish  meditations  and  shaped 
themselves  yet  more  vividly,  until  the  transfigured 
expression  in  her  face  showed  that 'she  was  imagining 
such  things  as  no  pen  can  portray. 

Suddenly  she  uttered  a  low  cry  and  raised  her  arms 
towards  the  crucifix. 

Padre  Martinez,  without  a  moment's  delay,  knelt  down 
beside  her. 

"  He  is  speaking  to  you,  child." 

"  I  know  !     I  know  !  " 

405 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  His  lips  move !  " 

"  I  know  !  " 

"  Listen  !    What  is  it  He  bids  you  do  ?  " 

"  He  is  telling  me." 

"  Something  irrevocable  that  may  not  be  gone  back 
upon  in  the  weak  hours  of  the  morning." 

Carna's  lips  were  parted  in  a  loving  smile,  her  arms 
held  out  towards  the  image  of  her  dear  Saviour.  The 
words  she  heard  seemed  to  come  from  afar,  she  scarcely 
listened  to  them,  she  scarcely  knew  whether  it  was  the 
image  speaking  or  the  priest.  She  only  knew  that  she 
was  there  kneeling  to  Him,  adoring  Him,  her  heart 
yearning  towards  Him  with  more  intensity  than  had 
ever  seemed  possible. 

"  To  send  away  your  lover,  that  is  of  no  avail."  The 
face  looked  so  steadily,  and  yet  so  lovingly  upon  her ! 

"  To  replace  him,  and  replace  him  swiftly.  That  is 
the  only  way,  that  he  may  not  return." 

And  now  the  eyes  seemed  to  know  that  she  would 
do  it.  She  looked  down  upon  herself  as  from  far  off, 
saw  herself  kneeling  there,  and  knew  that  she  would  do 
it  as  He  wished. 

"  A  letter !  Shall  I  bring  you  pen  and  paper  to  the 
steps  that  you  may  write  ?  Now  !  Now,  at  once,  whilst 
yet  you  have  strength." 

The  priest,  finding  she  did  not' answer,  gently  touched 
her  on  the  arm.  She  realized  that  it  was  he  who  had 
been  speaking  and  answered  him  — 

"  No !     Hush !  " 

For  a  moment  they  both  were  silent.  Then  Carna 
spoke  in  a  whisper,  her  eyes  with  distended  pupils  still 
gazing  upon  the  Saviour,  and  the  priest,  bending  nearer, 
comprehended  that  these  words  were  not  meant  for  his 
ears,  yet  now  and  again  caught  fragments  of  what  she 
was  saying. 

406 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  And  I,  vile  human  worm,  would  have  doomed  Thee 
to  linger  there  —  That  Thy  dear  will  may  be  done !  — 
Beloved  Jesus  of  my  soul  —  Receive  Thou  the  tribute 
of  Thy  handmaiden  —  Yet  may  I  spare  Thee  one  drop 
of  blood !  j  Dios  mi'o !  That  this  thing  should  be ! 
How  can  the  great  God  thus  suffer  His  Lovely  One  to 
know  the  cold  sweat  of  death  !  " 

Without  looking  round  she  motioned  to  the  priest, 
who  whispered  that  he  was  near,  and  she  bade  him 
call  Susana. 

The  priest  stole  swiftly  down  the  aisle,  out  along  the 
corridor  and  beckoned  to  Susana,  calling  "  Sh !  "  and 
putting  his  finger  upon  his  lips. 

The  organ  was  gently  swelling  from  the  bass  of  a 
solemn  mass  as  they  went  up  the  dark  chapel  towards 
the  altar  lights  where  sparkled  the  gold  and  jaspers  over 
the  head  of  Carna,  the  image  still  looking  down  at  her. 

Susana  crossed  herself,  then  bent  down  beside  her 
mistress  upon  one  knee. 

Padre  Martinez  stood  aloof  in  the  shadow  of  the 
reading  desk,  leaning  one  arm  upon  it,  his  black  eyes 
fixed  eagerly  upon  the  two  women. 

"  j  Susana !  " 

"  What  is  your  will,  Sefiora  ? " 

"  Take  the  carriage  —  " 

"jVoy!" 

"  Seek  my  silk  shawl,  my  manton  de  Manila." 

"Yes,  Senora." 

"Hang  it  over  my  balcony  —  j  Dios  mi'o  !  —  and  — 
come  back ! " 

Carna  had  not  moved  her  eyes.  Neither  had  Padre 
Martinez.  Yet  the  image  seemed  to  watch  the  retreat- 
ing figure  of  the  maid  as  she  rose,  bowed  to  the  crucifix, 
and  stole  down  past  the  dark  pillars,  half  sobbing,  all 
wondering,  and  afraid. 

407 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

The  black  eyes  of  the  Catalan  priest  were  almost 
anxious  as  he  stood  there  silently  watching  the  kneeling 
penitent.  He  heard  Susana's  quiet  footsteps  go  down 
the  chapel,  the  clash  of  the  curtain  rings  along  the  pole, 
the  door  pulled  gently  to,  and  the  massive  latch  falling 
with  a  crash  into  its  socket. 

Then  there  was  a  pause. 

The  organ  had  ceased,  and  inside  the  chapel  the 
silence  was  so  profound  that  one  seemed  to  hear  the 
very  candles  burning.  Beyond  the  altar  the  darkness 
was  oppressive,  pitiless,  expectant. 

Through  one  of  the  open  ventilators  behind  the  altar 
could  be  dimly  heard  the  sound  of  far-away  merry- 
making in  Cinco  Caminos. 

Las  dnimas  sounded  from  the  Cathedral  of  Santa  Fe 
and  went  booming  across  the  vega.  Down  came  a 
gust  from  the  mountains,  the  candles  guttered,  and  one 
of  them  went  out. 

Padre  Martinez,  watching  the  greasy  smoke,  heard 
a  sound  of  wheels  outside  the  College  wall.  The  car- 
riage moved  away  slowly  down  the  hill  and  the  sounds 
subsided.  A  quiet  sigh  of  relief  came  from  his  lips. 

And  to  Carna  it  seemed  as  though  the  Saviour's 
agony  were  less  poignant  than  before,  His  eyes  welling 
tears  of  loving  gratitude  and  almost  of  triumph. 

Only  for  a  moment  she  thought  this. 

Then,  gold  and  jasper,  pearls  and  rubies,  flowers, 
agate,  marble,  ebony,  wax,  and  silver,  all  melted  into 
a  cloud. 

Dofla  Encarnacion  fell  swooning  upon  the  steps  of 
the  altar. 


408 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

"  Murder's  as  near  to  lust  as  flame  to  smoke." 

PERICLES. 

DON  LUIS  was  striding  down  the  lane  towards  his 
mother's  home.  As  he  passed  the  house  of  his 
cousin  his  humour  was  far  from  gay,  his  glance  very 
far  from  kind.  He  looked  towards  the  windows  with  a 
glowering  savage  fire  hi  his  eyes,  then  tried  to  laugh, 
twirled  his  moustache,  and  stalked  onwards  without 
looking  behind  him. 

Had  he  looked  behind  him  and  seen  Carna's  balcony, 
he  might  have  halted  there  and  then. 

It  was  not  until  he  stood  before  his  mother's  door 
that  he  glanced  back  towards  the  white  villa  of  Carna, 
His  hand  paused  as  it  rose  towards  the  knocker,  stopped 
in  mid-air,  and  came  back  to  his  hip,  whereon  it  rested. 
His  keen  eyes  peered  strangely  through  the  moonlight 
towards  the  distant  balcony. 

Then,  with  an  oath  of  surprise,  he  stepped  off  towards 
the  house  of  Carna  Gonzalez. 

The  windows  were  all  dark.  Not  a  soul  was  inside, 
for  Dona  Felipa  and  Susana  were  with  Carna  in  the 
College,  Ti'o  Patas  awaiting  them  outside  upon  his  box, 
and  the  other  servants  were  with  their  sweethearts  at 
the  fair  in  Cinco  Caminos. 

This,  however,  was  unknown  to  Don  Luis,  whose 
glittering  eyes  looked  upward  at  the  shawl  of  Manila 
which  was  spread  over  Carna's  balcony. 

Oh,  balmy  summer  evening !  Oh,  sweetest  scent  of 
409 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

orange  blossom  wafted  across  the  vega  !  Could  these 
things  be  true  ?  What  new  thrill  of  life  was  this  ? 
What  passion  of  by-gone  days  awakened  into  being  ? 
What  triumph  of  patient  love  rewarded  ? 

"  Blessed  be  the  mother  that  bore  thee,  the  ground 
whereon  thou  treadest,  the  pillow  whereon  thou  sleep- 
est!  Pearl  of  pearls,  rose  of  roses,  the  joy  of  Para- 
dise is  nothing  beside  the  joy  of  that  hour  in  which 
thine  eyes  look  into  mine  with  the  light  of  six  years 
ago." 

The  front  door  was  locked,  the  back  door  securely 
bolted.  When  he  went  "  Sh  !  sh  !  "  nobody  came  to 
the  windows. 

He  walked  into  the  front  garden  and  tried  to  peer  in 
at  the  windows  of  the  front  room  from  the  flower-beds, 
but  the  room  was  all  dark  within. 

He  then  went  round  to  the  reja  of  the  little  kitchen 
window,  and  found  it  just  as  lonely. 

Finally  he  walked  down  the  side  path  in  search  of  a 
breach  in  the  wall  which  he  had  known  in  the  by-gone 
days.  At  this  point  the  wall  was  only  breast  high,  and 
the  orchard  rubbish  being  cast  over  it  into  the  waste 
ground  outside  it  offered  an  easy  entrance. 

A  strange  feeling  came  over  him  as  he  climbed  across 
this  barrier.  It  reminded  him  of  the  time  when  he  used 
to  enter  his  uncle's  house,  when  the  doors  were  closed 
against  all  visitors,  and  steal  like  a  brigand  into  the 
kitchen,  bidding  the  laughing  servant  maids  be  silent 
and  asking  for  his  pretty  cousin  to  come  down  and  walk 
with  him  in  the  orchard. 

When  he  stood  inside  this  orchard,  clapping  his  hands 
to  rid  them  of  the  dust,  it  occurred  to  him  for  the  first 
time  that  this  silence  had  a  meaning. 

Carna  was  waiting  for  him  alone  ! 

Swiftly  he  walked  up  the  path,  treading  upon  the 
410 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

sharp  shadows  of  the  fig  trees  that  moved  gently  to  and 
fro,  raised  the  latch,  and  with  heart  beating  fast  he 
stood  inside  the  patio. 

Silence ! 

Nothing  but  the  scurrying  of  a  rat  which  leapt  right 
over  his  feet  and  disappeared  inside  a  grating. 

Then,  as  he  stood  and  listened,  he  heard  a  quiet  drip, 
drip,  drip.  It  was  the  kitchen  tap. 

He  pushed  open  the  kitchen  door.  Inside  were 
traces  of  haste,  but  nothing  moved.  Spoons  and  knives 
were  huddled  into  an  earthen  basin  ready  for  washing, 
but  nothing  was  washed.  A  dying  redness  in  one  of 
the  Moorish  candelas  told  that  no  fan  had  fanned  it  for 
more  than  an  hour.  A  small  earthen  pipkin  simmered 
feebly. 

Don  Luis  had  learned  to  love  in  Manila  in  a  way  that 
was  short  and  sweet.  The  steady  constancy  of  pure 
love,  which,  though  it  may  have  something  of  passion 
at  its  base,  is  unaware  of  it,  was  not  for  Don  Luis.  It 
was  of  this  fact,  perhaps,  that  Dona  Carna's  keen  woman 
senses  had  told  her,  and  caused  her  to  be  afraid  of  him. 

Being  thus  constituted,  Don  Luis  explained  to  himself 
the  silence  of  the  house  in  a  way  that  brought  the  hot 
blood  flushing  to  his  cheek.  He  felt  that  a  bride  was 
awaiting  him  and  daring  him  to  seek  her.  With  a  dim 
consciousness  that  the  surest  place  to  find  her  was  her 
bedchamber,  he  nevertheless  looked  fitfully  in  every 
room,  pausing  at  times  to  listen.  He  would  leave  her 
bedroom  until  the  last.  Yonder  was  the  street  door  of 
the  patio,  where  his  cousin  had  lain  upon  the  tiles  inside, 
and  he  at  full  length  outside,  whispering  to  each  other 
under  the  door  as  sweethearts  will  when  others  are  in  bed. 

Only  ten  minutes  ago  he  had  glanced  upon  the  out- 
side of  that  door,  feeling  that  it  had  closed  on  him  for 
ever.  And  now  he  was  inside,  by  invitation  ! 

411 


THE   PAGAN    AT   THE   SHRINE 

He  looked  into  the  reception-room,  dark  and  over- 
shadowed by  the  shrubs  and  palms  outside.  The 
shadow  of  one  palm  leaf  moved  lazily  up  and  down, 
pointing  towards  the  open  lid  of  the  harpsichord  with 
its  "  Sic  transit  gloria  mundi." 

Beside  the  sofa  he  could  just  make  out  two  little  house 
shoes.  He  strode  towards  them  and  his  hot  trembling 
hand  closed  tightly  upon  one  of  them  which  he  lifted  to 
his  lips  and  kissed  again  and  again.  Then,  as  though 
typifying  the  strange  mixture  of  passion  and  brutality 
in  his  composition,  he  flung  the  shoe  away  and  walked 
swiftly  from  the  room,  glaring  from  side  to  side  for 
other  evidences  of  its  wearer. 

Carna's  fan,  her  work-basket  and  darning,  her  waist 
belt,  all  these  lying  upon  a  table  in  the  patio  arrested 
him  in  turn.  Just  as  some  wild  beast  to  whom  one 
throws  a  coat  and  cap  pauses  to  sniff  at  them,  and  then 
comes  on  with  a  savage  roar,  so  did  Don  Luis  pick  up 
these  trifles  one  by  one,  cast  them  aside,  and  leap  up 
the  staircase  towards  her  room. 

Outside  the  door  he  paused. 

He  felt  that  the  dove  was  already  within  his  grasp, 
and  his  heart  was  beating  so  violently  that  a  great 
drumstick  seemed  to  be  pounding  him  upon  his  ears 
and  temples. 

"  Gently,  Cousin  Luis !  "  he  whispered  to  himself. 
"  Our  dainty  sweetheart  is  not  a  swarthy  Filipina !  " 

And  then  he  closed  his  fingers  upon  the  handle, 
turned  it  round,  and  slowly  pushed  open  the  door, 
which  gave  a  prolonged  creak  from  both  its  hinges. 
He  laughed  quietly  with  pure  exultation.  He  felt  sure 
that  she  must  be  inside.  His  joy  was  beyond  control, 
his  face  had  crimsoned  with  passion. 

Then,  peering  hither  and  thither  through  the  shadows, 
he  gradually  became  aware  that  the  room  was  empty. 

412 


THE    PAGAN    AT   THE   SHRINE 

On  his  right  hand  the  snow-white  bed,  opposite  to 
the  bed  the  dark  wall  and  crucifix,  to  the  left  of  the 
crucifix  the  open  window  and  balcony,  the  canary  and 
the  vine  leaves,  the  stealthily  moving  shadows  of  the 
tendrils.  The  leaves  in  the  orchard  below  were  sigh- 
ing. He  paused  for  a  moment,  took  one  step  forward 
towards  the  balcony,  then  suddenly  halted  and  clenched 
his  hands. 

For  the  sound  of  two  guitars  and  three  men's  voices 
rose  like  some  weird  enchantment  from  below. 

After  a  while  he  stooped  down  and  crept  towards 
the  balcony,  and  as  his  eyes  made  out  the  figure  of  his 
rival,  the  face  of  Don  Luis  became  black  with  deadly 
passion,  passion  of  another  kind. 

So  tremendous  was  the  hatred  that  possessed  him 
that  he  became  another  being,  a  savage  beast  bent  upon 
his  enemy's  destruction.  And  this  impulse  was  all  the 
more  terrible  and  dangerous  in  that  he  did  not  give 
way  to  frenzy,  he  did  not  stand  in  the  balcony  and 
rail  at  the  intruders,  but  drew  back  into  the  room  upon 
his  knees,  his  eyes  like  two  burning  coals. 

He  looked  round  the  bedchamber,  his  hand  upon 
his  throat,  for  he  was  choking.  His  glance  fell  upon 
the  crucifix. 

Stumbling  towards  it  on  his  knees,  he  held  out  his 
hands  to  the  Saviour,  whispering  hoarsely  — 

"Thou,  who  hearest  her  nightly  prayers,  hear  me 
also !  Hear  me  vow  that  her  bitter  jest  shall  be 
answered  by  a  jest  more  bitter  still.  Hear  me  !  Hear 
me!" 

He  struck  himself  upon  the  breast,  uttering  a  low 
hoarse  cry  of  murderous  fury. 

******** 

The  reason  of  Don  Luis'  interruption  is  easy  to 
explain. 

413 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

That  evening  at  las  Animas,  Juan,  all  unconscious  of 
what  had  happened  during  the  last  twenty  hours  or 
less,  stepped  gaily  down  to  a  little  wayside  ventorrillo 
called  La  Casualidad,  the  favourite  haunt  of  Jos6 
Ramos. 

He  was  bent  upon  carrying  out  an  idea  which  for 
several  days  past  had  been  slowly  maturing  in  his 
brain,  a  moonlight  serenade,  and  looked  forward  to 
giving  his  sweetheart  a  pretty  surprise.  He  passed 
through  the  ventorrillo  to  the  yard,  overgrown  with 
vine  on  the  farther  side.  At  a  table  were  seated  Jos£ 
Ramos  and  Nonito  Breba.  Nonito,  younger  son  of 
the  great  doctor,  was  just  such  another  gentlemanly 
ne'er-do-weel  and  just  such  another  good  fellow  as 
Jos6  Ramos. 

"Good  evening,  friends,"  said  Juan,  and  throwing 
open  his  black  capa  with  a  merry  laugh  and  sweeping 
off  his  cap,  he  asked  them  how  they  liked  his  green 
holiday  suit  of  glittering  vtajo. 

Santa  Fe,  two  decades  behind  Sevilla  and  Granada, 
still  loved  such  things,  still  put  them  on  to  serenade  or 
christen,  aye !  and  sometimes  even  to  get  married,  in 
memory  of  the  early  century. 

"  Faith,  friend,  a  brave  suit  to  go  to  a  wedding  in  !  " 
said  Jos6,  standing  up  to  look  at  him. 

"We  too  have  kept  our  word,"  added  Nonito,  and 
raising  his  glass  of  Manzanilla  to  his  lips  with  his  right 
hand,  he  threw  back  his  cloak  with  his  left,  disclosing 
a  short  jacket,  a  pair  of  knee  breeches,  and  pink  silk 
stockings.  The  coat  and  breeches  were  blood-red  and 
tinselled  all  over  with  braid  of  gold.  The  inside  lining 
of  his  capa  was  made  of  blood-red  plush. 

Josh's  suit,  like  Juan's,  was  green  and  gold. 

Juan  clapped  his  hands,  and  they  brought  him  a 
copita  of  wine. 

414 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  Your  health,  good  friends  and  fellow-conspirators." 

Jose  and  Nonito  each  had  brought  a  guitar. 

After  a  few  minutes  of  conversation  they  passed  out 
through  the  ventorrillo,  paying  their  reckoning  at  their 
wooden  counter,  then  made  for  the  dusty  moonlit  high 
road  and  trudged  along  the  few  hundred  yards  that 
separated  the  ventorrillo  from  the  town. 

Skirting  the  town,  they  passed  along  the  beach,  tun- 
ing their  guitars  and  practising  their  trio  as  they  went. 
Jose"  had  a  wonderful  tenor  voice,  which  was  now  well 
trained,  and  Juan  sang  very  decently  in  baritone.  As 
for  Nonito,  his  fingers  were  better  than  his  voice,  yet 
he  made  shift  to  sing  bass  whenever  his  memory  served 
him  with  the  words. 

At  the  loneliest  point  along  the  beach  they  all  three 
stood  and  sang  their  final  rehearsal. 

"  I  think  we  shall  do  very  well,"  remarked  Nonito. 
And  putting  his  guitar  beneath  his  cloak,  he  passed 
along  the  water's  edge,  followed  by  Jose"  and  Juan. 
When  they  came  to  the  pyramids  of  salt  they  turned 
up  to  the  left,  crossed  a  sandy  stretch  of  barren  ground, 
and  made  towards  the  group  of  snow-white  houses 
over  whose  roofs  the  towering  eucalyptus  waved  gently 
against  the  dark  blue  sky  behind.  So  thickly  was  the 
firmament  studded  with  tiny  stars  that  a  palm  tree  on 
the  left,  when  it  moved  its  arms,  seemed  to  be  shedding 
jewels  upon  the  housetop.  The  villa  was  in  darkness. 

This  did  not  surprise  them.  With  their  loitering  and 
rehearsing  it  was  well  past  bedtime. 

They  took  up  their  stand  under  Carna's  balcony, 
whispering  to  each  other.  Nonito  gently  sounded  a 
keynote.  Juan  beat  time,  and  on  the  fifth  beat  they 
all  commenced  to  sing  without  any  prelude. 

The  words  were  those  of  Joaqum  Pe"rez,  the  poet 
of  Santa  Fe.  The  music  was  composed  by  Guillermo 

415 


THE   PAGAN    AT   THE   SHRINE 

Breba,    who   was   even   better   on  the   piano   than  his 
brother  on  the  guitar. 

It  is  certain  that  the  music  was  much  better  than 
the  words,  and  since  the  words  mattered  nothing  and 
the  music  very  much,  that,  after  all,  is  only  as  it  should 
be.  This  is  what  they  sang,  and  their  three  voices 
sounded  very  well.  The  first  words  of  some  lines,  the 
last  of  others,  were  prolonged  with  a  languishing  note 
of  passionate  feeling,  the  guitars  swiftly  changing  from 
one  chord  to  another  until  the  voice  had  fallen  — 

"  What  subtle  charm  thine  eyes  employ, 
That  gives  me  pain,  that  gives  me  joy ! 
That  glance  so  sweet,  yet  so  dismaying, 
Those  eyes  so  mirthful  and  betraying : 
Thus  God  hath  given  to  man  in  truth 
Of  His  best  handiwork  a  proof 
Of  what  is  mirth,  and  what  is  gladness : 
Of  what  is  pain,  and  what  is  madness : 
Of  shining  sun  and  smiling  sky : 
Of  sudden  storm  that  passeth  by : 
Of  cruelty,  anger,  and  disdain  : 
Of  love  and  laughter,  pity,  pain. 
This  subtle  charm  thine  eyes  employ, 
That  gives  me  pain,  that  gives  me  joy." l 

The  singers'  voices  dwelt  on  the  last  note,  then 
ceased.  The  two  guitars  joined  in  a  sudden  burst  of 
rapid  finale,  the  finale  of  the  first  verse  and  prelude  of 
the  second. 

"  Your  lady  will  not  show  herself,"  said  Jos6  to  Juan, 
looking  towards  the  silent  window  whilst  his  fingers  ran 
up  and  down  the  strings. 

"  Wait !  "  said  Juan.  He  too  was  gazing  up  at  the 
balcony  and  trying  to  pierce  the  shadows  beneath  the 
vine  leaves.  The  shawl  covered  the  rail,  or  he  might 
have  looked  up  between  the  bars. 

1  From  the  Spanish. 
416 


THE    PAGAN    AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  I  would  swear  I  saw  something  move,"  whispered 
Jose". 

"  i  Estamos  ?  "  asked  Nonito.  "  On  the  fifth  bar, 
gentlemen."  And  they  started  to  sing  the  second 

verse  — 

"  The  things  they  say  when  I  pass  by : 
The  love  they  tell  and  then  deny 
To-night  enchanteth  and  to-morrow 
My  rapture  maketh  into  sorrow. 
Thus  from  one  moment  to  the  next, 
I  now  am  joying,  now  an  vext. 
One  day  thy  vows  I  must  believe : 
Lament  thy  fickleness  at  eve. 
What  mystery  is't  that  in  the  shade 
Of  thy  dark  eyes  my  soul  hath  laid? 
What  hungry  passion  may  this  be 
That  bids  me  ponder  thoughtfully 
The  things  they  say  when  I  pass  by, 
The  love  they  tell,  and  then  deny?" 

Now  before  the  second  verse  came  to  an  end,  the  bar- 
itone had  ceased  to  sing.  Juan,  looking  more  intently 
into  the  dark  embrasure  than  the  others,  saw  a  dim  ap- 
parition with  burning  eyes,  a  thing  that,  seen  in  the 
uncertain  shadows  of  the  room,  seemed  neither  man  nor 
woman. 

Then,  straining  his  eyes  to  make  certain  that  he  was 
not  dreaming,  this  strange  appearance  vanished.  But 
even  whilst  he  stood  spellbound,  the  silken  shawl  began 
to  move. 

Slowly,  inch  by  inch,  pausing  at  intervals  like  a  lizard 
that  crosses  the  road  and  halts  at  every  stone,  the  shawl 
moved  upwards,  and  disappeared  inside  the  room. 

"  What  do  you  make  of  that  ? "  asked  Juan  breath- 
lessly, and  turning  with  a  sudden  movement  towards 
Nonito. 

"Make  of  it?  Ha!  ha!  ha!  'Make  of  it!'  says 
he." 

2  E  417 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  You  nearly  threw  us  out  of  time,  man  —  why,  what's 
amiss  ? "  exclaimed  Jos6,  smiling. 

"  I  say,  what  do  you  make  of  that  shawl  ?  " 

"  Faith.  Nothing,  man,  if  you  do  not  know  when  you 
are  invited  —  " 

And  they  both  laughed  as  loudly  as  they  dared, 
plucking  at  their  guitars  to  hide  their  merriment. 

"  Out  on  you  !  "  cried  Juan.  "  For  shame  !  You 
make  too  free  with  me  to  speak  thus  about  a  very  fair 
lady  whose  name  is  beyond  reproach." 

He  looked  at  them  hotly,  but  soon  turned  back  and 
gazed  up  again  at  the  window  with  clenched  fists,  for- 
getting them. 

Nonito  changed  his  tune,  and  looking  hard  at  Jos6, 
he  played  a  few  bars  of  a  very  merry  ditty  which  re- 
ferred to  the  wedding  night. 

But  Jos6  shook  his  head  at  him,  and  motioned  tow- 
ards Juan  who  was  standing  rigid,  his  attention  riveted 
upon  the  dark  balcony. 

Presently  he  called,  "  j  Carna !  " 

After  calling  her  name  many  times  he  took  to 
throwing  small  pebbles  gently  against  the  glass  of 
the  open  windows,  and  even  inside  the  room. 
There  was1  no  reply.  Nothing  but  darkness  and 
silence. 

"JoseY"  said  Juan,  "lend  me  your  shoulder  to  hop 
upon.  I  am  going  in  over  yonder  wall." 

Nonito  grinned  very  hard,  and  hid  his  face  over  his 
guitar. 

"  Friends,"  said  Juan  as  he  sat  upon  the  wall  before 
dropping  down  into  the  garden,  "  I  am  going  in  here 
because  I  have  good  reason.  Let  each  one  think 
what  he  likes,  and  evil  be  to  him  that  evil  thinks.  I 
pray  you,  Seftores,  get  on  with  your  ditty.  The  third 
verse  will  do  very  well  without  me." 

418 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  And  when  we  have  sung  the  third  verse,  and  you 
are  not  returned  ?  " 

"  Back  to  the  first  again  !  " 

"  Excellent !  "  said  Nonito. 

And  then,  in  a  lower  tone,  to  Jose"  — 

"  And  after  the  second  time  of  singing  ?  " 

"  Back  to  our  beds,  for  when  wood  pigeons  take  time 
by  the  forelock  such  cattle  as  you  and  I  must  think  of 
mending." 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!" 

And  they  fell  into  the  prelude  of  the  third  verse,  for 
Juan  had  already  dropped  down  behind  the  wall. 
******** 

When  Juan  lifted  the  latch  of  the  patio  and  stepped 
inside,  he  at  first  saw  nothing  moving,  and  only  heard 
the  same  lonely  drip,  drip,  drip,  of  the  water  in  the 
kitchen  that  had  welcomed  Don  Luis. 

His  first  impetuous  thought  had  been  for  his  sweet- 
heart, but  now  for  a  moment  a  foreboding  came  upon 
him,  and  he  felt  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of  some 
mysterious  danger.  Surely  those  two  eyes  that  he  had 
seen  peering  over  the  sill  of  the  balcony  were  not 
Carna's !  Surely  they  were  no  human  eyes  at  all ! 

As  he  moved  towards  the  middle  of  the  patio,  instinct 
bade  him  be  cautious,  and  he  glanced  from  side  to  side 
at  the  dark  entries  of  the  various  rooms  leading  off  the 
central  courtyard,  with  an  uneasy  shudder  when  he  had 
to  turn  his  back  upon  them. 

Then  he  heard  a  slight  movement  in  the  gallery,  and, 
looking  up,  his  eyes  met  those  of  Don  Luis. 

The  eyes  of  Don  Luis  were  like  the  eyes  of  a  man 
who  is  maddened  by  drink. 

Not  only  this,  but  his  right  hand  was  upon  the  bed- 
room door  of  Carna.  Quietly,  with  a  sneering  smile, 
and  without  moving  his  eyes  from  Juan,  the  Guardsman 

419 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

pulled  the  door  to,  turned  the  key  in  the  lock,  and  put 
the  key  in  his  pocket. 

Then,  ever  so  slowly,  step  by  step,  his  face  still 
wearing  a  bitter  sneer,  he  moved  along  the  gallery  and 
down  the  staircase  humming  the  end  of  a  rhyme  about 
the  "  hare  which  leaps  from  the  corner  whence  least  she 
is  expected,"  and  repeating  the  last  words  over  and 
over  again  — 

"  Porque  donde  menos  se  espera 
Salt. i  la  liebre, 
Salta  la  liebre, 
La  liebre  salta." 

A  great  tempest  of  wrath  rose  in  Juan's  heart;  his 
face  grew  flushed  with  passion,  then  pale. 

As  the  two  men  faced  each  other  in  the  middle  of  the 
patio,  each  read  something  in  the  other's  eyes  that  bade 
him  keep  ready  his  good  right  hand  and  stand  upon  his 
guard. 

Don  Luis  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  Friend  fisherman,  what  brings  you  here  ?  " 

"  Friend  captain,  I  came  here  upon  my  two  legs." 

"Yet  two  legs  shall  not  serve  to  carry  you  away, 
unless  the  devil  chops  you  a  mighty  short  cut  out  of  it." 

"  Your  meaning  is  none  the  plainer  for  being  loud, 
Don  FanfamSn." 

"  I  have  something  here  with  which  to  let  in  my 
meaning,  and,  by  God !  we  will  see  whether  the  worse 
pig  shall  get  the  better  acorn." 

The  Guardsman  drew  his  rapier  and  had  taken  a  step 
forward  when  Juan,  whose  hand  had  already  gone  to 
his  belt,  drew  out  his  knife.  The  blade  sprang  open 
with  the  pressure  of  his  thumb,  and  smiling  grimly,  he 
snatched  off  his  cap  and  held  it  in  his  other  hand. 

"  Knife  and  cap  against  your  rapier,  my  captain  ! 
The  bargain  is  not  for  me  to  grumble  at." 

420 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Don  Luis  drew  back,  put  his  left  hand  into  his  belt, 
fetched  out  a  knife  and  pressed  open  the  blade.  Then, 
he  threw  away  his  rapier. 

Juan  laughed  derisively  when  he  saw  this  manoeuvre 
of  distrust. 

"  'Tis  you  who  are  the  madrugador,1  not  I,"  he  said. 

Each  man  then  deftly  wound  his  capa  around  his  left 
forearm,  holding  his  knife  between  his  teeth  the  while ; 
Juan  threw  away  his  cap,  and  Don  Luis  came  on  at 
him. 

But  Juan  budged  not  an  inch,  his  eyes  fixed  intently 
upon  the  other's  face,  his  left  arm  folded  across  his 
breast,  his  body  leaning  forward,  his  legs  in  the  strained 
posture  of  one  about  to  start  onward,  his  right  arm 
bent  back,  the  knife,  with  his  thumb  along  the  blade, 
held  level  with  the  ground. 

The  Guardsman  halted  within  three  yards  of  him, 
and  crouched  forward  in  the  same  attitude.  Then, 
stealthily,  keeping  to  the  middle  of  the  patio,  each 
man  began  to  circle  round  the  other,  watching  his 
chance. 

There  is  only  one  meeting  in  such  a  game.  And 
when  the  parting  comes,  one  of  the  players  at  least 
has  become  a  corpse. 

And  each  man,  remembering  this,  yet  eager  to  strike 
his  enemy,  strained  every  nerve  and  muscle  to  close 
within  springing  distance  without  exposing  either  one 
side  or  the  other. 

Each  kept  his  eyes  fastened  upon  his  opponent's 
eyes,  yet  made  shift  to  notice  his  surroundings,  the 
crevices  in  the  patio,  the  orange  tubs  and  corners  of 
the  wall.  For  a  hole  in  the  pavement  might  be  a  back 
way  to  eternity. 

Even  the  moonlight  which  streamed  down  into  the 

1  One  who  lunges  in  when  the  other  is  unprepared. 
421 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

patio  put  each  man  at  a  disadvantage  when  he  came 
opposite,  so  that  when  he  found  himself  moving  in 
front  of  the  moon  he  quickly  spread  his  left  hand  over 
his  eyes. 

A  cigarr6n  was  chirping  somewhere  in  the  orange 
trees.  Sometimes  he  stopped  as  if  watching  these 
stealthy  figures,  or  perhaps  he  was  listening  to  the 
guitars. 

For  Jos6  and  Nonito  were  singing  with  a  will,  and 
already  they  had  come  to  the  second  verse  again  — 

"  What  mystery  is't 
That  in  the  shade 
Of  thy  dark  eyes 
My  soul  hath  laid  ?  " 

"Anon,  there  shall  be  shade  enough  for  one  of  us ! " 
muttered  Don  Luis  as  Juan  moved  opposite  to  the 
moon.  "  And  tell  this  to  my  pretty  cousin,  if  your 
mouth  is  open  in  the  morning !  Bid  her,  after  to-night, 
to  get  herself  married,  cloistered,  or  buried,  with  what 
despatch  she  may." 

Don  Luis  burst  out  laughing  bitterly,  but  he  was 
wasting  good  breath. 

•  Juan  did  not  answer.  Less  carried  away  by  fury 
than  the  captain,  he  was  doggedly  waiting  his  chance, 
his  face  like  the  face  of  Cain,  brow  knit,  teeth  set  fast, 
and  eyes  staring.  His  greater  height  and  strength 
were  useless  to  him  in  this  trial  of  skill,  and  he  had 
the  self-control  to  hold  himself  back  until  he  saw  his 
enemy's  play.  At  times,  when  the  serenaders  outside 
were  silent,  Juan  could  hear  the  quick  breathing  of 
Don  Luis,  who  constantly  came  on  at  him,  wearing  a 
cruel  smile  upon  his  twitching  lips,  the  smile  of  the 
matador  who  comes  to  kill.  As  Don  Luis  came  on, 
Juan,  without  retreating,  moved  towards  his  left. 

422 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Then,  suddenly  the  captain  flinched  and  almost  fell 
backwards,  crying,  "  j  Jesus  !  " 

He  recovered  himself  so  rapidly  that  Juan  could  not 
have  gained  by  attacking.  Yet  the  Vizcaino  was  able 
to  note  the  ashen  look  that  had  spread  over  the  Guards- 
man's face,  the  smile  having  disappeared,  leaving  noth- 
ing but  the  nervous  twitch  behind  it. 

Juan  understood. 

The  creepers  in  flower-pots  along  the  gallery,  which 
let  fall  long  strings  of  spider-like  offshoots,  had  brushed 
against  the  face  of  Don  Luis,  who,  feeling  one  of  these 
great  insects  against  his  eyebrows  and  not  knowing 
what  it  was,  nor  daring  to  look  away,  shuddered  as 
though  Fate  had  brushed  against  him.  His  fury 
changed  to  dread  when  this  uncanny  messenger  flew 
past  his  face  in  the  silent  gloom,  and,  looking  intently 
into  Juan's  steady  eyes,  he  realized  for  the  first  time 
that  his  doom  was  written  there. 

He  no  longer  advanced  upon  the  Vizcamo,  his  lips 
were  parched,  his  forehead  was  moist  with  cold  sweat. 
He  tossed  his  three-cornered  hat  away  behind  him  with 
a  sudden  movement  of  his  left  hand. 

Juan  now  pressed  steadily  in  upon  Don  Luis,  who 
began  to  circle  round  him,  breathing  quicker  and 
quicker,  and  ashen  as  a  ghost. 

And  the  four  black  gaping  doorways  around  the  patio 
seemed  to  be  silent  witnesses  of  this  dance  of  death. 
A  bedroom  door  along  the  gallery  was  creaking  to  and 
fro  upon  its  hinges,  moved  by  the  gentle  breeze  which 
blew  upon  the  Guardsman's  forehead,  and  felt  like  a 
hand  of  ice. 

A  distant  voice  called  from  outside,  "  j  Juan !  " 

Then  another  voice,  "We  are  for  going  !" 

This  was  followed  by  the  sound  of  random  chords 
struck  upon  the  guitar,  like  one  who  waits  or  is  uncer- 

423 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

tain.  Juan  at  this  moment  caught  his  foot  against  the 
fallen  hat  of  Don  Luis,  and  looked  quickly  down  and  up 
again. 

A  hoarse  cry,  "  j  Toma ! "  and  the  Guardsman,  who 
thought  that  he  saw  his  chance,  leapt  like  a  panther. 

His  knife,  grazing  upward  along  Juan's  left  arm, 
fetched  the  blood  spurting  from  his  cheek  and  cut  it  to 
the  bone.  But  the  captain,  shuddering  and  showing  the 
whites  of  his  eyes,  fell  away  as  a  sackful  of  meal,  with 
a  mighty  gasp,  that  ended  like  a  sigh.  Juan's  knife  had 
buried  itself  to  the  hilt,  just  under  his  lowest  rib. 

So  firmly  had  Juan  gripped  his  knife  that  when  he 
drew  back  he  still  held  it,  bloody  and  glittering. 

And  two  yards  away  lay  Don  Luis  upon  his  side,  full 
in  the  moonlight,  his  arms  stretched  out,  his  fingers 
closed,  his  pretty  uniform  like  a  slaughterer's  apron. 
Slowly  a  tiny  crimson  patch  began  to  spread  along  the 
tiles,  and  just  a  wisp  of  white  vapour  curled  upwards 
from  the  hot  blood  and  melted  away  in  the  thirsty 
summer  air. 

Juan  bent  over  him.  He  drew  out  his  handkerchief 
and  tried  to  stanch  the  flow.  But  the  merry  blood  found 
out  another  way,  and,  spreading  under  the  clothes,  came 
oozing  out  at  half  a  dozen  exits. 

Juan  knew  that  he  was  looking  upon  a  corpse.  He 
threw  away  the  handkerchief  with  a  moan,  for  with 
the  sight  of  blood,  and  the  rapid  ending  of  the  struggle, 
the  cold,  relentless  awfulness  of  his  crime  fell  heavily 
upon  him. 

And  Jose  and  Nonito  began  another  verse. 

Juan  dashed  the  blood  from  his  eyes  and,  holding  his 
hand  pressed  tight  against  his  cheek,  sprang  up  the 
staircase.  With  a  mighty  pressure  of  his  knee  he  burst 
open  Carna's  door.  He  stared  round  the  room,  only  to 
find  it  —  empty  ! 

424 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

The  sound  of  the  guitars  came  to  a  sudden  stop  when 
the  door  crashed  open.  Jos6  called  to  him  — 

"jjuan!  " 

For  a  few  moments  the  great  Vizcaino  stood  sway- 
ing backward  and  forward  in  the  little  room,  his  hands 
held  over  his  face,  his  finger-tips  pressing  in  his  eye- 
balls, then  staggered  to  the  balcony.  They  cried  out 
when  they  saw  the  blood  upon  his  face. 

"  j  Jose"!  " 

"God  of  my  soul!  Is  that  voice  yours  or  a 
raven's? " 

"  Come  up  to  me,  man !     And  come  quick !  " 

Jos6,  with  Nonito's  aid,  crept  over  the  wall. 

Juan  met  him  at  the  door  of  the  patio,  holding  his  left 
forearm  across  his  eyes  and  pointing,  with  his  right  hand 
behind  him,  at  Don  Luis. 

Jose\  open-mouthed  and  open-eyed,  came  into  the 
middle  of  the  patio,  stooped  for  a  moment  over  the 
corpse,  and  then  threw  up  his  arms,  crying  out  in 
sheer  despair. 

Juan  still  stood  with  his  back  towards  him,  his  face 
still  hidden  in  his  left  arm,  his  right  hand,  that  had 
been  pointing,  gradually  falling  to  his  side.  The  blood 
from  his  face  had  drenched  the  green  plush  of  his  sleeve, 
but  he  took  no  heed  of  it.  For  some  little  time  Jos6 
could  do  nothing.  His  lips  refused  to  speak.  He  looked 
wildly  at  Juan  in  the  shadow  of  the  gallery,  then  at  Don 
Luis  in  the  moonlight,  then  back  to  Juan.  Once  or  twice 
he  raised  his  arms,  then  let  them  fall  helplessly  with  a 
shuddering  sigh. 

Then  Nonito  began  to  call  to  them. 

Jose,  suddenly  rousing  himself,  sprang  towards  Juan, 
and,  seizing  him  by  the  arm,  shook  him  to  and  fro. 
Juan  turned  to  look  at  him  out  of  his  horror-stricken 
eyes. 

425 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

"  Awake !  Away !  Be  off  with  you  !  For  the  love  of 
Jesus  get  you  gone,  before  it  is  too  late  ! " 

"Go?" 

"  Man,  you  have  slain  a  captain  of  the  Civil  Guards  ! " 

"  Aye ! " 

"  And  there  is  only  one  refuge.  Seek  it  flying !  Be 
off!" 

"  Where  to  ?  " 

"  To  Carrasco  !" 

Nonito  ran  in  at  the  door,  paused,  saw  the  corpse,  and 
went  to  press  his  hand  upon  the  heart  as  Jos6  had  done. 
A  ghastly  fascination  took  hold  of  Juan  to  look  once  more 
upon  the  face.  He  stole  back,  his  lips  curling  with  hor- 
ror, stood  for  a  moment  beside  Nonito  bending  low  and 
clutching  his  arm  for  support,  then  turned  round  and 
covered  his  eyes  once  more. 

"  To  Carrasco !  to  Carrasco !  "  cried  Jos£  in  his  ear, 
as  though  trying  to  rouse  him  from  his  stupor. 

And,  Nonito  repeating  the  word,  both  men  caught 
hold  of  him,  one  on  either  side,  and  hurried  him  through 
the  door,  looking  back  over  their  shoulders  at  what  they 
left  behind  them. 

Don  Luis,  with  glazed  eyes  and  frozen  smile,  lay 
waiting  for  his  cousin.  This  was  not  the  "  jest "  that 
he  had  intended.  But  it  would  serve  very  well,  for 
lack  of  a  better. 


426 


CHAPTER  XXV 

Juliet.    "  O  God  !     Did  Romeo's  hand  shed  Tybalt's  blood  ? 


But  wherefore,  villain,  didst  thou  kill  my  cousin  ? 
That  villain  cousin  would  have  killed  my  husband  : 
Back,  foolish  tears,  back  to  your  native  spring, 
Your  tributary  drops  belong  to  woe, 
Which  you,  mistaking,  offer  up  to  joy." 

Romeo  and  Juliet. 

THE  drinking  water  that  trickled  from  the  kitchen 
pipe  ran  warm,  and  Conchita  was  coming  with 
her  pitcher  to  the  fountain  in  the  little  plaza  where 
the  side  street  leaves  the  king's  highway.  The  mol- 
ten snow  of  the  sierras  comes  deep  in  the  earth  along 
Moorish  pipes  of  elm-wood  to  this  fountain,  which  stands 
beneath  a  pepper  tree,  resort  of  many  gossips. 

It  was  Maria's  duty  to  fetch  this  water,  but  neither 
Maria  nor  Susana  had  the  courage.  Conchita  volun- 
teered. Yet  even  Conchita's  brow  was  clouded  against 
her  will,  her  face  looked  fiercely  cheerful,  as  by  an 
effort,  and  she  hummed  a  tune. 

Where  servant  and  mistress  "thou"  each  other  on 
occasions,  and  the  maids  have  become  part  and  parcel 
of  the  family,  the  house  stands  or  falls  as  one  solid 
rock,  and  each  member  bears  the  others'  shame  or  glory. 

At  the  fountain  were  half  a  dozen  gossips,  two  of 
them  old  women  with  white  hair  and  wrinkles,  a  portly 
dame  of  middle  age,  and  three  laughing  girls  with  black 
hair,  olive  faces,  and  milk-white  teeth,  namely,  Rafaela, 
daughter  of  the  soap-maker  whose  shop  stood  opposite ; 

427 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Anita,  the  maidservant  of  one  Dofta  Paca,  who  was  a 
sea-captain's  penurious  widow  living  across  the  plaza; 
and  Pepita,  maid-of-all-work  to  a  baker. 

The  chattering  had  been  fast  and  furious  until  they 
saw  Conchita,  and  then  they  suddenly  became  silent, 
and  all  of  them  looked  very  hard  at  her  as  she  drew 
near. 

Pepita  was  filling  her  pitcher,  so  Conchita  had  to 
wait,  which  she  did  with  her  hands  upon  her  hips  and 
the  empty  pitcher  at  her  feet  upon  the  ground.  Her 
eyes  looked  fixedly  at  the  jet  of  water,  and  her  lip  was 
pressed  between  her  teeth. 

Anita  was  leaning  her  bare  arms  upon  the  top  of  her 
pitcher,  which  stood  in  the  trough,  her  face  upon  the 
backs  of  her  hands,  which  crossed  the  pitcher's  mouth. 
Her  sparkling  eyes  gazed  past  Conchita's  face  and 
down  the  road  with  a  look  that  seemed  interested  in 
something  much  nearer  than  the  distant  eucalyptus 
they  were  focussed  on.  Rafaela  leant  against  the 
fountain  with  folded  arms,  her  eyes  like  Conchita's, 
following  the  jet  of  water,  and  softly  singing  that 
verse  of  the  Murciana,  which  goes  — 

"  One  dark  night  without  a  moon, 
She  fell  weeping  by  his  tomb. 
Answered  Silence,  '  Spare  thy  breath, 
For  there  is  no  cure  for  death.' " 1 

Rafaela's  choice  of  a  subject  was  not  meant  to  be 
appropriate.  She  was  unconscious  that  Conchita  was 
becoming  more  and  more  disturbed,  for  she  was  not 
looking  at  her.  But  presently  she  caught  the  eye 
of  the  fat  matron  who,  with  just  the  shadow  of  a  smile, 
put  her  finger  to  her  lips  and  shook  her  head.  Then 
both  of  them  looked  at  Conchita. 

1  From  the  Spanish. 
428 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Pepita,  having  filled  her  pitcher,  lifted  it  away. 

"  It  calls  my  attention,"  said  Conchita,  using  the 
haughtiest  language  she  could  command,  "that  day 
after  day,  year  in,  year  out,  you  are  jabbering  away 
here  like  a  nest  of  magpies,  and  this  morning  you  all 
stare  at  one  as  if  God  had  struck  you  dumb." 

Her  hands  were  curled  outwards,  and  her  knuckles 
rested  upon  her  hips.  Instead  of  lifting  the  pitcher 
under  the  spout,  she  pushed  it  with  her  foot  and  rolled 
it  backwards  and  forwards  on  its  side. 

Nobody  replied. 

"  Say  something,  Senoras,  for  the  love  of  Mary  say 
something,  if  only  some  of  those  same  pretty  things 
you  were  saying  about  us  when  I  came  along." 

"  And  what  if  we  were  ? "  asked  Anita,  laughing  and 
looking  up  at  her  with  her  right  ear  still  pressed  upon 
her  hands  and  her  arms  across  the  pitcher. 

"  Just  so !  And  what  if  we  were  ?  "  said  the  matron 
stolidly. 

One  of  the  old  women  began  to  chuckle.  Conchita 
bit  her  lip,  for  she  felt  twelve  eyes  upon  her.  She 
looked  round  at  them  all  defiantly,  the  skin  of  her 
cheeks  beginning  to  show  dark  crimson,  her  eyes 
flashing  more  fiercely  even  than  her  earrings,  which 
leapt  about  every  time  she  turned  her  head. 

"  Come !  Let  me  hear  what  it  was  that  you  were 
saying." 

"  Oh-h-h  !  "  said  all  the  gossips. 

"  Ah  !     So  you  dare  not  tell  me  !  " 

"  Dare  not !  Who  says  '  dare  not '  ? "  cried  the 
matron,  puckering  up  her  face  and  waving  her  right 
hand  in  eloquent  circles,  a  pinch  of  imaginary  salt 
between  the  thumb  and  finger. 

"  I  say  you  dare  not,  dare  not,  dare  not !  "  shouted 
Conchita,  stamping  her  foot. 

429 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

The  women  all  looked  at  her. 

"  Some  one  has  said,"  began  Rafaela  presently, 
stirred  by  the  challenge,  "  that  '  sweet  faces  tell  foul 
lies' !  " 

"  What  else  ? " 

"And  some  one  has  said,"  joined  in  Anita,  speak- 
ing as  if  put  out,  and  looking  somewhat  resentfully 
at  Rafaela  across  the  fountain,  "that  'the  nearer 
the  church  the  farther  from  God,'  and  that  this  has 
been  brewing  for  many  a  bright  month  in  the  Devil's 
Kitchen." 

Conchita  put  her  pitcher  under  the  spout. 

"What  else?" 

"And  /say  —  "  put  in  the  matron,  as  if  ashamed  of 
these  anonymous  accusations,  and  ready  to  lay  claim  to 
her  opinions  and  back  them  up,  "and  /  say,  that  the 
Devil's  Kitchen  is  not  in  the  mountains,  as  many  people 
suppose  it  to  be.  For  the  Devil's  Kitchen  is  the  very 
one  you  come  from,  and  may  God  give  you  the  gump- 
tion to  get  out  of  it,  with  as  little  delay  as  possible,  for 
until  you  do  so  you  stand  very  ill  in  the  eyes  of  all  hon- 
est people." 

"What  else?" 

Conchita  was  standing  erect  again,  her  hands  upon 
her  hips,  her  eyes  like  a  basilisk's,  her  breath  coming 
fast. 

"  What  else  ?  j  Nada !  That  your  mistress  has 
decoyed  her  own  cousin  into  her  bedroom,  there  to  be 
foully  murdered  by  her  paramour,  that  never  was  a 
brave  and  bonny  man  so  cunningly  trapped  and  done 
to  death  in  all  Santa  Fe,  nay,  not  even  in  a  brothel ! 
God  save  us  from  these  wicked  times,  say  I,  and  let 
this  be  a  lesson  what  to  expect  of  pretty  faces." 

"What  else?" 

"  j  Nada !  " 

430 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

"  And,  in  truth,  it  is  enough !  Well,  Senoras,  since 
you  thus  trust  me  with  your  confidence,  it  were  a  pity 
you  should  go  unanswered.  It  seems  you  have  said 
some  truths,  and  some  things  that  were  otherwise.  The 
one  that  says,  '  Sweet  faces  tell  foul  lies,'  learnt  it  at 
home.  Go,  ask  her  own  mother  who  was  father  to  her 
daughter,  the  cobbler  to  the  left,  or  the  goodman  of  her 
house.  And  what  will  her  face  reply?  Yet  can  it  — ' 

"  j  Ay  !  "  screamed  Anita.  "  What  infamy  !  What 
lies !  " 

"  Then  if  they  be  lies,  why  are  your  cheeks  so  red  ? 
One  might  toast  beans  in  front  of  them  and  save  the 
fire !  As  for  the  one  who  says,  '  the  nearer  the  church 
the  farther  from  God,'  j  Senoras  !  I  remember  a  certain 
holiday  week  when  she  must  have  been  close  to  God 
indeed,  for  she  kept  mighty  far  from  the  church,  and 
many  seemed  to  think  she  had  more  need  of  churching 
than  any  soul  alive,  though  it  isn't  for  me  to  say  !  " 

"  j  Jesus  !  j  Senoras  !  Was  ever  the  like  of  this 
heard  before  in  Santa  Fe  ? "  cried  Rafaela,  bending 
across  the  fountain  with  her  left  hand  on  the  sill,  and 
the  right  hand  brandished  before  her  face. 

"  ;  Hija !  Calm  yourself !  "  sneered  Conchita,  with 
an  imperious  flourish  of  her  hand.  "  What  else  was  to 
be  expected  ?  '  She  who  was  born  in  a  soap-maker's 
shop  must  needs  slip  a  bit,'  they  say,  and  the  fault  lies 
with  your  father  for  not  choosing  a  cleaner  trade." 

"Beneath  —  my  —  foot!"  cried  the  matron,  anxious 
to  join  issue,  "two  blacks  don't  make  a  white.  Your 
mistress  has  tripped,  and  'tis  always  the  finest  cloth  that 
most  shows  up  the  spots.  This  is  a  spot  that  won't 
come  out  in  the  washing  either.  Have  a  civil  tongue. 
You  are  beside  yourself  with  malice." 

"  Aye  !  "  said  Conchita.  "  And  if  malice  made  one 
black  in  the  face,  how  many  of  us  would  be  niggers  ? 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

I  have  been  speaking  to  the  child,  let  the  nurse  listen  ! 
And  now  I  come  to  it,  the  nurse  pleases  me  better  than 
the  children,  for  people  who  throw  stones  and  then  hide 
their  hands  are  not  worth  wasting  breath  upon !  And, 
to  begin  with,  Seftora,  if  I  may  go  back  a  bit,  why  did 
they  clap  your  good  man  into  gaol  this  very  last  Ascen- 
sion ?  Was  it  for  being  too  honest  ? " 

"  Infamous  trull! "  roared  the  matron,  stepping  towards 
her.  "  Filthy,  infamous  trull !  Fresh  from  a  house  of 
shame,  with  lewdness  in  its  bedchambers  and  blood  upon 
its  threshold  !  You  —  " 

"  j  Chis ! "  cried  Conchita.  "  Don't  open  your  mouth 
so  wide,  for  fear  of  bluebottles !  These  be  the  '  honest 
people '  we  should  think  upon  !  This  comes  of  envy  and 
hatred  !  What  has  troubled  you  this  many  a  year  is  — 
we  will  have  none  of  you !  For  those  who  lie  down  with 
dogs,  get  up  with  fleas !  What  fault  of  ours  that  we  are 
well-to-do,  whilst  others  have  only  their  finger-nails  to 
feed  upon  ?  Mary  be  praised,  we  owe  nothing  but  our 
souls  to  God,  and  that  is  the  dust  that's  gone  to  make 
this  mud,  for  it  isn't  the  custom  in  Santa  Fe.  As  for 
your  insults,  Time  is  father  of  the  Truth,  and  to  mad 
words  I  turn  deaf  ears.  '  Murder  ! '  '  Decoy ! '  You 
lie,  you  lie,  and  may  they  frizzle  you  well  in  purgatory 
and  melt  your  ill-gotten  fat !  And  as  for  '  pretty  faces,' 
\ifoul  ones  be  a  surety  of  godliness,  why,  go  no  more 
to  confession,  nor  look  on  Holy  Water ;  you  have  no 
need  of  either !  j  Ea !  j  Sefloras  !  I  wish  you  a  very 
good  day !  Our  house's  good  name  is  far  beyond  your 
reach.  You  have  spat  at  the  sky,  and  your  spittle  has 
fallen  on  your  faces.  What  I  have  said,  I  have  said, 
and  if  I  had  two  mouths  I'd  say  the  same  with  both." 

Muttering  angrily  to  herself,  Conchita  lifted  up  her 
pitcher,  snapped  her  fingers  furiously  in  their  faces, 
burst  out  laughing  very  loudly,  and  stepped  away. 

432 


THE   PAGAN    AT   THE   SHRINE 

The  fat  matron  was  dumb  with  spleen,  and  Rafaela 
and  Anita  frowned  upon  each  other  with  scarlet  faces, 
whilst  those  who  had  said  nothing  made  merry  of  it 
all. 

Meanwhile  Conchita,  her  throat  swelling  and  her  eyes 
swimming,  let  three  or  four  great  tears  fall  upon  her 
blouse,  and  made  her  way  back  along  the  lane  towards 
the  house.  Every  shutter  was  closed. 

The  fierce  sun  was  sweltering  down  upon  the  white- 
washed walls.  A  land  wind  was  blowing,  the  leaves 
of  many  trees  were  drooping  in  the  scorching  blast, 
and  the  only  sign  of  life  was  a  slate-coloured  lizard, 
which  climbed  up  the  house  front  by  jerks  and  pauses, 
zigzagging  first  to  right  and  then  to  left,  now  behind 
the  leaves  of  the  creeper,  now  emerging  into  the  scorch- 
ing snow-white  desert  of  whitewashed  wall. 

At  the  gate  Conchita  suddenly  drew  up,  almost  drop- 
ping the  pitcher  with  the  jerk  of  her  stoppage.  The 
water  splashed  out  of  the  mouth  and  fell  on  her  white 
stockings,  rolled  off  on  to  the  ground,  and  almost  before 
it  fell  the  sun  had  spirited  it  away. 

Her  eyes  were  looking  horror-stricken  upon  the  left- 
hand  gate  post.  Underneath  a  great  festoon  of  convol- 
vulus that  came  down  halfway  from  the  capstone,  the 
brickwork  was  bare  and  whitewashed  like  the  house. 
In  the  middle  of  this  bare  space  was  daubed  a  great 
cross  in  blood,  nearly  a  yard  in  height.  Underneath  it 
in  the  same  horrible  paint  — blood  from  the  slaughterer's 
—  was  smeared  — 

"  Aqui  mataron  d  Don  Luis  Gonzdlez. 
Rueguen  d  Dios  POT  su  alma." 

Conchita,  who  could  not  read,  knew  from  old  custom 
that  these  words  must  mean  :  "  Don  Luis  Gonzalez  was 
murdered  here.     Pray  for  his  soul  to  God !  " 
2  F  433 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  j  Ay ! "  she  cried,  and  putting  down  the  pitcher  in 
the  corner,  buried  her  face  in  her  apron. 

Presently,  still  snuffling  and  terrified,  she  drew  her- 
self together.  Then,  as  if  an  idea  had  occurred  to  her, 
she  crept  trembling  round  the  corner  along  the  pathway 
that  went  under  Carna's  balcony. 

Nor  was  she  disappointed. 

Just  beside  the  iron-barred  window  of  the  kitchen 
and  underneath  the  balcony  was  a  still  larger  cross, 
made,  like  the  other,  with  blood,  and  the  words  — 

" Rueguen  d  Dios por  Don  Luis" 

"  May  the  Virgin  look  down  upon  us  and  help  us  !  " 
cried  Conchita,  clasping  her  hands. 

"  What  is  it?  "  asked  a  low  trembling  voice  from  the 
kitchen  window.  It  was  Maria. 

"  May  the  Lord  have  mercy  upon  us !  "  said  Conchita 
hoarsely,  "  there  is  that  upon  the  house  that  cannot  be 
rubbed  out,  nay,  not  while  one  stone  is  left  standing 
upon  another,  for  it  would  come  again  through  twenty 
generations." 

Maria  was  silent,  for  she  knew  what  this  meant,  and 
staring  into  Conchita's  dilated  eyes  she  seemed  to  see 
the  horror  upon  the  wall  reflected  in  them. 

Conchita  went  slowly  back  to  the  gate,  picked  up  the 
pitcher,  and  went  in,  Maria  meeting  her  at  the  door. 
The  dead  man  had  been  buried  yesterday,  yet  they  still 
spoke  in  whispers. 

"  How  many  are  there  ? "  asked  Maria. 

"  Two,"  whispered  Conchita.  "  One  at  the  side,  and 
one  upon  the  gate  post,  j  Jesus  !  It  seems  as  if  I  had 
brought  home  blood  in  the  pitcher." 

Both  girls  looked  at  the  dark  water  which  splashed 
from  side  to  side  in  the  neck  of  the  pitcher,  then  down 

434 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

at  a  certain  spot  in  the  middle  of  the  patio,  each  think- 
ing that  she  saw  blood  upon  the  tiles. 

"  Where  is  she  ?  "  asked  Conchita. 

"  In  the  orchard,  walking  up  and  down  like  something 
bereft,  in  the  shadow  of  the  fig  trees." 

"  And  Dona  Felipa  ?  " 

"  Gone  to  her  bedroom.  I  think  she  has  given  up  all 
hope  of  ever  soothing  her !  " 

"  So  I  should  think  !  The  old  woman  must  sell  her 
fat  and  buy  some  honesty,  and  my  mistress  has  much 
the  same  suspicion  as  I  have." 

"What  do  you  suspect?  " 

"  About  Dona  Felipa  ?  What  I  have  told  you  before, 
that  this  evil  had  never  fallen  on  the  roof  if  her  sly  old 
face  had  never  looked  in  at  the  door." 

"Aye!     She  has  a  cunning  look." 

"  He  who  sits  near  an  evil  tree  must  expect  to  sit  in 
an  evil  shadow.  I'll  to  my  mistress." 

Conchita  poured  some  of  the  fresh  water  into  a  glass 
and  went  out  into  the  orchard,  where  Dona  Carna,  or 
rather  the  ghost  of  what  had  been  Dona  Carna  only 
two  days  ago,  was  pacing  to  and  fro. 

She  took  the  glass  of  cold  water  and  drank  it  eagerly. 

"  Courage,  little  one,"  said  Conchita  (who  was  one 
year  Carna's  junior);  "the  world  is  still  going  round, 
the  sea  lies  where  it  was,  and  we  may  all  of  us  live  to 
weep  at  something  else  if  only  we  be  more  provident  of 
our  tears.  You  are  watering  the  very  fig  roots.  God 
grant  it  may  be  forgotten  before  San  Juan  comes  round 
again,  and  all  of  us  be  wondering  why  the  figs  should 
taste  so  salt." 

"  Oh,  never,  never,  never  can  this  horror  be  forgotten !  " 

"  '  Never '  is  a  long  day,  and  there  was  never  yet  an 
evil  that  lasted  a  hundred  years." 

"  The  horror  of  it !  The  appalling  guilt  of  it !  The 
435 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

relentless  grinning  truth  of  it !  The  nameless  foulness 
of  it !  The  lasting  shame  of  it ! " 

"  '  Shame '  ?  Who  said  '  shame '  ?  Were  we  not  else- 
where when  the  deed  was  done  ?  Why,  who  has  dared 
to  '  shame '  you  of  it  ?  " 

"  Wicked  that  I  am  to  think  of  shame,  when  yonder 
poor  cold  corpse  cries  out  for  vengeance  on  me  and 
mine ! " 

"  Aye !  Let  it  cry,  we  must  all  come  to  it  some  day. 
'  Vengeance  '  troubles  him  not  a  whit.  'Tis  only  worms, 
poor  lad,  that  sit  upon  his  conscience.  Who  is  it,  though, 
that  breathes  a  word  of  '  shame '  ? " 

"All  Santa  Fe  will  shout  it  in  our  faces !  Oh,  happy 
corpse,  could  I  but  hide  me  from  the  world  like  you,  a 
yard  of  earth  between !  " 

"  Pish !  A  yard  of  bride's  veil  shall  hide  thee 
yet!" 

"  Nay,  but  I  think  that  a  nun's  veil  shall." 

"  To  the  devil  with  all  priests  and  nuns  !  " 

"  Hush ! "  said  Carna,  and  put  her  hand  over  the 
other's  mouth. 

"  —  and  Jesuits !"  cried  Conchita,  pulling  away  her 
hand.  Then,  seeing  Carna's  prostration,  she  relented, 
and  drew  nearer  to  her. 

"  Alas  !  "  said  Conchita  to  herself.  "  Who  would 
think  that  here,  in  this  very  fig  tree,  we  were  gathering 
figs  and  talking  of  the  wooing,  only  on  the  morning  of 
St.  John  the  Baptist,  and  look  what  has  come  to  pass ! 
Faith !  I  was  born  weeping,  and  every  day  since  I  have 
been  finding  out  the  reason." 

For  a  little  while  Dofia  Carna  stood  motionless  with 
her  face  buried  in  her  hands,  as  though  she  had  sud- 
denly forgotten  the  maid's  presence,  then  cried  with  a 
gesture  of  despair — 

"  Oh,  Conchita,  his  mother  looked  in  through  the 
436 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

window,  and  our  eyes  met.    It  seemed  as  though  a  flash 
of  angry  lightning  had  fallen  on  my  eyeballs." 

"  Looks  cannot  kill.  In  time  she  will  know  the 
truth." 

"  Aye,  but  what  is  the  truth  ?    Will  any  of  us  know  ? " 

"  Yes,  all  of  us  but  you." 

"  And  why  not  I  ?  " 

"  Because  —  because  it  is  the  business  of  some  people 
that  I  know  to  hoodwink  you." 

Carna  stood  leaning  one  hand  against  a  fig  tree  and 
looked  at  Conchita. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  What  I  have  said  before,  Sefiora,  this  house  smells 
too  strongly  of  Jesuits." 

Dona  Carna  made  a  weary  and  half-hearted  gesture 
of  disapprobation. 

"  Nay,"  cried  Conchita,  "  I  will  not  be  silent !  I  love 
God  as  well  as  any  of  His  creatures  love  Him,  but  He 
never  left  me  word  to  love  the  Jesuits.  'Tis  my  opinion 
that  when  God  comes  to  see  us  He  comes  without  bell, 
book,  or  candle.  You  have  too  much  of  your  mother, 
and  too  little  of  your  father,  to  hold  your  own.  You  are 
like  a  young  linnet  fallen  into  a  crow's  nest.  I  have 
watched  you  weeping  these  two  days,  and  now  it  is  time 
you  were  up  and  doing,  for  God  knows  there  is  much  to 
be  done,  and  the  Guardia  Civil  are  hunting  your  lover 
in  the  mountains  like  a  pack  of  bloodhounds  on  the  track 
of  a  wounded  slave.  Welcome  Misfortune  if  she  comes 
alone,  and  take  ,care  there  be  not  two  dead  men  instead 
of  one !  " 

Dofta  Carna  looked  fixedly  at  her  maid,  and  her  pale 
face  became  yet  paler.  Presently  Conchita  spoke  again. 

"  Don  Juan,"  said  she,  "is  the  nephew  of  the  Father 
Rector  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

437 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  Well,  I  have  got  it  into  my  head  that  the  Father 
Rector  is  the  only  follower  of  Jesus  of  all  the  Jesuits, 
and  if  not,  then  '  sweet  faces  tell  foul  lies  '  indeed  !  " 

"And  do  you  think  that  my  mind  has  not  already 
turned  to  him  ?  Would  that  he  were  here !  " 

"  When  will  he  return  ?  " 

"  To-morrow  or  the  day  after." 

"  Padre  Ignacio,"  said  Conchita  slowly  and  thought- 
fully, "  was  the  only  one  of  them  all  that  was  really 
grieved  when  Don  Ramon  your  father  died  last  year. 
I  watched  him  when  he  thought  he  was  alone,  and  I 
heard  him  pray,  and  his  words  they  seemed  so  patient 
and  so  pitiful  they  made  me  cry  like  any  fool.  I  re- 
member it  well,  it  was  late  at  night,  and  he  in  the  room 
beside  the  corpse  with  candles  burning,  and  I  beside 
the  door.  '  Lord  !  Lord  !  '  said  he,  so  quietly,  '  take 
Thou  into  Thy  bosom  another  of  Thy  tired  children, 
whose  little  race  is  run ! '  So  he  began,  then  paused 
awhile  and  then  went  on —  " 

But  by  this  Conchita  had  also  fallen  to  crying,  and 
dropped  upon  her  knees  beside  her  mistress.  Moved 
by  one  impulse  the  two  women  threw  their  arms  round 
one  another's  necks  and  sobbed  for  a  while  contentedly. 

"  Thou  art  nothing  but  a  poor  fool  of  a  woman  after 
all,  and  like  myself,"  said  Dona  Carna,  kissing  Conchita. 

"  Ah ! "  said  Conchita,  kneeling  up  in  front  of  her, 
and  dabbing  her  eyes  with  her  red  petticoat,  "  I  fear  it 
would  take  ten  of  us  to  match  a  man,  though  one  of  us 
alone  can  make  ten  of  them  with  the  help  of  the  priest 
and  doctor,  and  even  without,  upon  occasions.  Oh  that 
I  were  a  man  this  very  moment,  and  knew  just  what  to 
do !  What's  wanted  here  is  a  pair  of  honest  breeches, 
and  without  them  we  poor  women  can  do  nothing  but 
cry  '  j  Ay !  '  For  we  were  born  with  the  belief  that 
they  only  got  us  for  washing  dishes,  and  what  comes  in 

438 


THE   PAGAN  AT   THE   SHRINE 

with  the  bib  goes  out  with  the  shroud.  It's  my  belief 
that  the  men  are  only  poor  fools  beside  the  women,  but 
it's  good  to  have  a  gruff  voice  and  stamp  about  when 
rats  are  stirring.  God  knows  there  are  rats  enough  in 
Santa  Fe !  And  chief  among  them,  one  great  he-rat 
with  coal-black  eyes,  and  a  great  fat  she-rat,  that's  peep- 
ing out  of  her  hole  this  very  moment." 

Carna  understood,  for  she  clasped  her  hands  and 
looked  up  at  Dona  Felipa's  window  with  a  start,  just  in 
time  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  a  disappearing  mantilla  seen 
through  a  leafy  tunnel  of  vine  and  fig  tree. 

"  And  you  still  believe  in  them !  "  said  Conchita 
scornfully. 

"No!  no!"  replied  Carna  hysterically,  leaning  her 
head  once  more  upon  the  other's  shoulder  and  clasping 
her  feverishly  round  the  neck,  "but  last  time  that  I 
rebelled,  I  committed  blasphemy." 

"  Didn't  they  ask  you  to  forsake  him  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  to  invite  Don  Luis  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  j  Jesus !  And  has  your  sorrow  so  befooled  you 
that  you  cannot  put  two  and  two  together  ?  " 

After  a  little  while  Dona  Carna  spoke  again. 

"  I  praise  God,"  said  she,  "  that  He  has  sent  you, 
good  friend,  to  hasten  my  tardy  judgment.  I  was 
coming,  I  think,  by  the  same  pathway,  to  the  same 
place,  but  coming  slowly,  for  this  shock  has  altogether 
dazed  me.  You  are  right.  What  we  need  is  a  man's 
counsel,  and  that  man  shall  be  my  lover,  and  before 
God,  I  will  no  more  forsake  him  till  God  bids  me  with 
His  own  mouth  from  His  own  throne." 

"  Arnen  !  The  blessing  of  Mary  upon  you  for  those 
words  ! " 

"  And  I  must  speak  with  him." 
439 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  What,  in  the  mountains  ?  " 

"  Aye  !     Now  it  is  your  turn  to  play  the  coward." 

"  Not  I  !  Only,  have  a  care  that  you  be  not  a 
lantern  to  light  the  Civil  Guard." 

"  I  had  thought  of  it,  for  the  idea  has  come  and 
gone  a  score  of  times.  Have  no  fear  !  Where  is  Ti'o 
Patas  ? " 

"  I  do  not  know.  What  would  you  have  with 
him?" 

"  Conchita ! "  said  Dofia  Carna,  bending  eagerly 
towards  her  maid  and  whispering  in  her  ear.  "Was 
he  not  once  a  contrabandist  ? " 

"  Aye ! " 

"  And  knows  Carrasco  ?     And  where  to  find  him  ?  " 

"  And  the  devil  and  his  wife  and  daughter  too, 
Seftora,  and  all  the  hobgoblins,  he  can  bring  them  in 
a  trice,  for  there's  nothing  foul  in  Christendom  that 
isn't  known  to  Tfo  Patas." 

"  Nay,  what  matter,  so  that  he  be  secret  and  serve 
our  turn.  I  think  he  is  very  faithful." 

Conchita  pursed  her  lips  slightly,  as  one  who  has  a 
feeling  of  discomfort  in  a  thing  that  is  proposed,  but 
knows  no  good  alternative. 

"  I  will  go  and  find  him,"  she  said,  "  and  will  bid 
him  come  to  you  in  the  front  parlour.  Will  you  be 
waiting  there  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

Conchita  went  towards  the  house. 

"  Stay  !  "  cried  Dofia  Carna. 

And  when  Conchita  came  back,  she  found  her  mis- 
tress with  a  haunted  look  upon  her  face,  her  hands 
pressed  tightly  against  her  temples. 

"Conchita  —  " 

"  What  ? " 

"  How  do  you  think  he  did  it  ?  That  he  came  on 
440 


THE   PAGAN    AT   THE   SHRINE 

at  him  in  fair  fight,  that    Luis   attacked    him,  he   but 
defending  himself,  and  so,  in  self-defence  — " 

"  Why,  how  else  should  it  be  done  ? " 

"  Why,  no  other  way,  surely  !  "  cried  Dona  Carna, 
speaking  very  hoarsely  and  very  quick.  "  But,  God 
in  Heaven  !  There  were  other  ways  another  might 
have  done  it,  as  thus,  stealing  up  close  behind  him 
in  the  shadow  —  eh  ?  —  and  burying  his  knife  before 
he  turned  on  him  !  " 

"  Don  Juan  ?     Never  !  " 

"  Nay !  Who  said  so  ?  Not  I !  I  say  another 
might  have  done  it  in  such  a  way,  and  therefore  more 
honour  to  my  dear  lover  that  he  fought  it  fairly  as  he 
did.  But  —  j  ay  !  The  horror  of  it !  That  hand  that 
has  blown  kisses  to  me !  j  Jesus !  What  various 
offices  one's  hand  may  do;  this  morning  writing  a 
love  letter,  at  noon  a  death-warrant,  to-day  shaking  a 
man  by  the  hand,  to-morrow  slaying  him  ! " 

"  Only  just  now  I  could  have  sworn  you  had  forgotten 
aught  else  but  your  lover's  peril !  " 

"  Aye,  so  I  have.     Go  find  me  Tfo  Patas !  " 

"  And  leave  you  still  despairing  when  you  might  be 
doing? " 

"  I  have  done  weeping.  Flesh  and  blood  must  needs 
cry  out  at  times.  Why,  what  are  you,  that  you  cannot 
weep  as  well  ?  Have  you  no  bowels  of  compassion  ? " 

"  For  the  quick,  but  not  for  the  dead  !  " 

"  I  know,  I  know !  "  cried  Dofia  Carna,  burying  her 
face  in  her  hands  once  more.  "I  have  the  spirit  of  a 
thousand  men  in  me  to  save  him,  but  whilst  there 
remains  one  little  drain  of  water  wherewith  to  weep,  I 
must  be  rid  of  it.  Anon  you  shall  see  my  face  as  stiff 
as  starch,  seethed  by  a  red-hot  iron.  Then  shall  I  be 
Gonzalez.  Wait  but  a  moment  whilst  I  forget  that  my 
mother  was  a  woman !  " 

441 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  what  your  lover  is  thinking  of  you 
in  this  moment  ?  That  you  tried  to  ensnare  Jiim  to  his 
death  !  " 

"  j  Ay  !  "  cried  Carna.  And  she  turned  so  ashen 
white  and  knelt  looking  at  Conchita  so  fixedly,  that 
the  maid  saw  that  a  crisis  was  at  hand. 

"  There  passed  the  iron  !  "  said  Carna,  rising  to  her 
feet.  "  Here  stands  Gonzalez !  " 


442 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

King.     "My  lord  Chief  Justice,  speak  to  that  vain  man." 

Ch.  Just.     "  Have   you  your  wits  ?      Know  you  what  'tis  you 

speak  ?  " 

Falstaff.    "  My  king  !  my  Jove  !    I  speak  to  thee,  my  heart  !  " 
King.     "  I  know  thee  not,  old  man  :  fall  to  thy  prayers." 

King  Henry  IV. 

WHEN  Ti'o  Patas  made  his  way  into  the  dark 
parlour,  he  could  at  first  see  nothing,  for  he 
had  just  come  in  from  the  sunlight.  But  he  heard 
the  scratching  of  quill  on  paper  and  gradually  made 
out  Dona  Carna  who  was  seated  at  a  card  table  with 
her  back  towards  him. 

"  Close  the  door ! "  she  said,  and  he  closed  it,  stand- 
ing hat  in  hand  and  peering  at  her  through  the  uncertain 
light  from  under  his  shaggy  eyebrows. 

Presently  the  sound  of  quill  on  paper  ceased,  the 
letter  was  sanded,  closed,  and  sealed  with  a  wafer. 

Dona  Carna  came  towards  him. 

"  Friend  Patas,  I  want  you  to  do  me  a  great  service, 
the  service  of  a  lifetime  perhaps." 

She  folded  her  little  hands  in  front  of  her  and  looked 
at  him  from  her  careworn  eyes.  The  old  man  seemed 
less  uneasy. 

"  Do  you  know  Carrasco  ?  " 

"  Eh  ? " 

His  eyes  had  wandered  to  the  floor  before  the  sorrow- 
ful gaze  she  bent  upon  him,  but  he  looked  up  quickly 
at  the  mention  of  Carrasco. 

443 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  Good  Patas,  this  is  no  time  for  mincing.  Though 
Carrasco  be  a  bandit,  there  are  many  know  where  to  find 
him.  To  me,  it  is  a  matter  of  life  and  death  that  you 
should  know  his  hiding-place,  and  I  ask  you,  in  all  se- 
crecy (God  knows),  can  you  meet  with  him  ? " 

The  old  man's  eyes  moved  rapidly  in  their  sockets, 
first  turning  to  Carna's  face,  then  to  the  windows,  then 
to  the  gloom  behind  her. 

"  There's  a  price  upon  Carrasco's  head,  and  a  heavy 
price  it  is,"  he  said  at  last. 

"  Aye,  but  we  are  going  to  trust  each  other,  you  and 
I.  See,  I  am  going  to  trust  you  with  my  life  and  with 
my  lover's." 

"  The  Civil  Guard  have  more  ways  than  one  of  worm- 
ing out  secrets." 

"  Look  !  "  cried  Carna,  going  eagerly  to  the  wall  and 
returning  with  a  crucifix.  "  Hear  me  swear  that  no  tor- 
ture shall  ever  goad  me  to  tell  of  Carrasco's  hiding-place. 
I  swear  it,  let  the  Virgin  hear  me !  " 

And,  falling  on  her  knees,  she  feverishly  kissed  the 
crucifix. 

"  Now,  do  you  doubt  me,  good  Patas  ?  " 

He  pursed  his  lips  tightly  as  though  calculating,  then 
looked  down  at  his  hat,  the  crow's  feet  coming  in  the 
corners  of  his  eyes. 

"  What  do  you  wish  me  to  do,  Seflora  ?  " 

Carna  rose  trembling,  and  going  towards  him  placed 
a  hand  on  either  shoulder,  looking  into  his  face. 

"  Friend  Patas,"  she  said  slowly  and  hoarsely,  "  I 
want  you  to  take  my  life  and  my  lover's  —  in  your 
hands." 

"  I  am  yours  to  command,  Seftora." 

"  Swear !  "  she  said  eagerly. 

He  took  the  cross  between  his  dirty  fingers. 

"  Swear  to  tell  no  living  soul  what  I  am  about  to  bid 
444 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

you  do,  swear  by  the  Holy  Mother  to  die  rather  than  be- 
tray your  trust." 

"  Not  even  to  the  Jesuits  ?  " 

"  Least  of  all,  least  of  all,"  she  cried,  wringing  her 
hands.  He  repeated  the  words  after  her  and  seemed  to 
kiss  the  cross,  though  some  lingering  scruple  of  con- 
science or  of  fear  caused  him  to  kiss  his  hand  or  the  empty 
air. 

Carna  put  away  the  crucifix,  then  came  to  him  again. 

"  My  lover  is  with  Carrasco.  Deliver  this  note  into 
his  hands,  let  no  one  see  it,  let  no  one  guess  your 
mission." 

He  took  the  little  envelope  and  placed  it  in  his  breast. 

"  Senora,"  he  began  slowly,  "  what  you  bid  me  do 
is  —  j  vaya !  —  I  have  not  so  long  to  live,  but  an  ounce 
of  lead  in  my  old  skull,  from  a  Civil  Guard's  rifle,  why 
—  look  you  —  " 

She  took  a  purse  from  her  basket  upon  the  table  and 
thrust  two  chinking  gold  pieces  into  his  hand. 

"  When  ? "  she  asked  breathlessly,  bending  towards 
him. 

"This  evening,  after  sunset,"  he  whispered. 

And  stealing  out  of  the  room  as  if  conscious  already 
that  he  held  a  secret  mission,  he  climbed  up  into  the  hay- 
loft and  knelt  grinning  and  mowing  over  the  lifted  floor 
board  where  he  kept  his  treasure. 

La  oration  was  over  when  Ti'o  Patas,  peering  all  around 
him  into  the  darkness,  halting  suddenly  to  listen  for  a 
footstep  in  his  wake,  then  making  on  again,  arrived  at 
the  low  wall  on  the  far  side  of  the  convent.  This  wall 
was  opposite  the  Hill  of  Calvary,  on  whose  summit  stood 
the  three  stone  crosses  towards  which  good  Christians 
struggled  on  their  knees  on  Crucifixion  Day.  There  was 
no  path,  and  visitors  were  never  seen  upon  this  side  of 
the  building. 

445 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

Climbing  to  the  top  of  a  little  mound,  he  scaled  the 
wall,  not  by  dint  of  great  agility,  but  simply  from  his 
knowledge  of  every  ledge  and  foothold. 

He  then  crept  up  the  west  avenue  of  palm  trees,  and 
made  for  the  kitchen  door. 

One  of  the  lay  brothers  was  seated  upon  the  step, 
trimming  the  wick  of  a  lamp. 

"  Hist !  "  said  Tfo  Patas. 

The  man  had  not  heard  him  coming,  and  looked  up 
surprised. 

"  Ah !     It  is  you,  good  Patas !     What  do  you  want  ?  " 

"Tell  Padre  Martinez  I  must  speak  to  him." 

"'Must'!" 

"Aye!  Upon  matters,  tell  him,  concerning  us  all 
very  closely." 

The  Jesuit  smiled  to  himself.  He  lighted  the  wick 
in  silence,  put  on  the  glass,  left  the  lamp  just  inside  the 
doorway,  and  went  away. 

Tfo  Patas  leant  in  at  the  door,  blew  out  the  light,  and 
sat  down  upon  the  doorstep. 

"  Dead  men  tell  no  tales,"  thought  he  to  himself. 
"  But,  alas !  they  are  bad  debtors.  Just  as  I  was  in 
sight  of  a  hardly  earned  reward,  j  zas !  come  six  inches 
of  steel  and  whip  away  my  reckoning.  Well  says  the 
proverb  that  'one  should  not  kill  the  goose  which  lays  the 
golden  egg.'  Nay,  but  others  will  kill  it  for  you  !  " 

And  he  sat  down  with  a  hand  upon  each  knee,  sigh- 
ing deeply  and  looking  out  towards  the  waning  moon 
which  shone  on  the  peaceful  sea,  and  up  at  the  skeleton 
leaves  of  the  palms  which  rocked  gently  to  and  fro 
along  the  avenue. 

Slowly  a  smile  stole  over  his  wrinkled  features,  and 
one  might  have  judged  by  his  expression  that  already  he 
had  spied  another  goose,  nay,  a  whole  flock  of  geese,  up 
yonder  in  the  moon. 

446 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

So  absorbed  was  he  in  his  meditations,  rubbing  his 
hands  up  and  down  along  his  knees,  that  the  lay  brother 
touched  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  looking  round  suddenly 
he  saw  Padre  Martinez  standing  in  the  doorway,  silent 
and  motionless. 

The  priest's  hands  were  buried  in  his  sleeves,  his 
arms  were  folded.  His  eyes,  though  unable  to  quench 
their  eagerness,  had  a  light  which  was  something  of 
contempt,  and  his  clean-shaven  lips  said  plainly  that  his 
mood  was  heavy  and  wrathful. 

Tfo  Patas  was  unable  to  note  these  symptoms  in  the 
darkness  of  the  porch. 

"  The  lamp  has  gone  out,"  said  the  lay  brother,  stoop- 
ing to  light  it. 

"  I  blew  it  out,"  said  Tfo  Patas  shortly. 

"  And  why  did  you  so  ?  "  It  was  the  voice  of  Padre 
Martinez.  It  sounded  angry  and  foreboding.  Ti'o 
Patas  drew  back  and  paused. 

"  Because  —  we  must  not  be  seen  together." 

"  We?" 

"  Are  we  not  here  all  Jesuits  ? "  asked  Tfo  Patas,  look- 
ing round  him  and  holding  out  his  hands. 

The  Catalan  priest  came  down  the  steps  into  the 
moonlight. 

"  We  /"  he  cried  angrily.     "  You  one  of  us  /" 

"  In  a  very  humble  capacity,  and  as  a  layman,  that  I 
allow,  but  —  " 

"  You  one  of  us  !  " 

"jPues!  Seftor  —  " 

The  old  man,  fearful  and  apologetic,  wondered  what 
avalanche  was  about  to  fall. 

"  Friend  Patas,  let  us  understand  each  other.  Why 
do  you  come  here  and  ask  for  me  by  name  ?  " 

"I  thought  — " 

"  Why  do  you  scale  our  wall,  like  a  thief  by  night, 
447 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

steal  across  our  garden  —  aye,  we  saw  you  —  and  blow 
out  our  lamp  ?  What  sudden  knavish  impudence  has 
bidden  you  use  my  name  ? " 

"  I  have  something  here  that  you  would  care  to  see." 
He  took  the  letter  from  his  bosom. 

"  And  why  should  I  care  to  see  it  ? " 

"  Because  —  j  vaya !  —  because  it  treats  of  things  that 
you  are  concerned  in." 

"  And  what  things,"  thundered  the  Catalan,  "  have 
you  and  we  in  common,  that  anything  of  yours  should 
concern  any  one  of  us  ? " 

Ti'o  Patas  felt  that  the  more  he  spoke  the  worse  pickle 
he  was  getting  into. 

The  Jesuit  took  a  step  towards  him  and  glared 
angrily  into  the  old  man's  cunning  eyes. 

"  Why  did  Don  Ramon  Gonzalez  ever  take  compas- 
sion on  you  ? " 

He  looked  down  at  his  hat  which  he  was  crumpling 
uneasily  in  his  hands. 

"What  happened  in  your  —  domestic  circle  —  that 
all  men  shrewdly  suspected,  though  it  never  came  to 
light?" 

The  old  man  trembled. 

"Where  should  you  be  to-night,  you  old  gaol-bird, 
if  Justice  had  her  own  ? " 

"  Have  mercy  !  " 

"  Aye  !  as  much  mercy  as  you  once  had !  Friend 
Patas,  a  word  of  advice.  Talk  not  henceforward  of 
'  us.'  When  it  pleases  you  to  seek  my  company,  seek 
me  in  open  daylight  when  I  walk  abroad,  and  not  like 
a  thief  by  night,  with  lamps  blown  out.  Think  on  the 
past.  Remember  that  tarrying  Justice  sometimes  looks 
over  old  scores.  And  don't  forget  that  there  is  a  Guardia 
Civil  in  Santa  Fe." 

For  a  few  moments  the  three  men  stood  silently  fae- 
448 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

side   each  other,   Padre   Martinez   frowning   upon   Tfo 
Patas,  who  looked  down  upon  his  hat  and  hung  his  head. 

"  As  for  your  letter,  did  you  ever  bring  me  any  one's 
letters  to  read  before  ?  " 

Ti'o  Patas  looked  up  quickly  and  was  about  to  speak. 

"  Answer  !  "  cried  Padre  Martinez,  with  his  face  like 
a  raging  tempest,  and  taking  another  step  forward. 

"  No !  "  replied  the  old  man  suddenly,  looking  down 
again. 

"  Then  why  do  you  bring  me  this  ? " 

Tfo  Patas  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

The  Jesuit  said  something  to  the  lay  brother  in 
French,  then  strode  away  six  or  seven  paces  and  looked 
out  upon  the  sea. 

The  lay  brother  put  out  his  hand  to  Ti'o  Patas,  who 
gave  him  the  letter.  He  took  it  inside  the  doorway, 
carefully  examined  the  wafer  with  which  it  was  sealed 
by  the  light  of  the  lamp,  went  through  a  corridor,  and 
after  a  few  minutes  returned  with  the  lamp  in  one  hand 
and  the  letter  in  the  other. 

He  then  placed  a  small  wafer  on  the  envelope  to  com- 
pare it  with  the  wafer  which  sealed  it,  satisfied  himself 
that  the  two  were  alike,  deftly  passed  a  silver  cutter 
between  the  paper  and  the  wafer,  and  after  a  few  mo- 
ments of  careful  handling  he  had  it  open.  The  note 
was  short,  but  he  read  it  through  several  times,  his  lips 
moving  as  though  he  were  learning  it  by  heart.  Then 
he  quickly  replaced  the  letter  in  its  envelope,  sealed 
it  with  the  new  wafer,  looked  at  it  carefully  with  a 
smile,  and,  coming  outside,  gave  it  to  Ti'o  Patas.  The 
whole  operation  had  barely  lasted  five  minutes. 

Padre  Martinez  came  back  to  them  as  Ti'o  Patas  was 
replacing  the  letter  in  his  bosom. 

"  What  have  you  here  ? "  asked  the  priest,  placing  his 
great  forefinger  over  the  letter. 
20  449 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Tfo  Patas  offered  to  take  it  out  again. 

"  j  Aja !  "  cried  the  priest  with  an  angry  look,  "  would 
you  betray  your  trust  ?  Did  I  ask  you  to  do  so ;  mark 
me,  did  I  ask  you  ? " 

"No." 

"  Have  I  so  much  as  touched  the  letter  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Has  it  even  been  opened  ?    Answer  me,  sir  !  " 

"No." 

"  And  'tis  well  that  it  is  so.     Go,  and  remember !  " 

The  priest  pointed  peremptorily  down  the  avenue, 
nor  let  fall  his  ringer  until  Tio  Patas  had  gone  down 
the  steps. 

When  Tio  Patas  had  already  left  the  College  gates 
behind  him  the  lay  brother  came  running  after  him  up 
the  hill  all  out  of  breath. 

"Will  you  come  back  this  way  to-night,  friend 
Patas  ? " 

"  I  doubt  not.  I  am  like  to  spend  the  night  in  the 
Devil's  Kitchen.  And,  God's  truth,  I  prefer  the  smell 
of  it  to  yours  !  " 

The  lay  brother  laughed  good-humouredly,  holding 
his  hand  on  his  panting  side. 

"Take  no  umbrage  of  Padre  Martinez.  You  dis- 
turbed him  at  his  studies.  May  be  —  if  you  can  keep  a 
quiet  tongue  — you  and  I  can  have  a  little  friendly  chat 
together  sometimes." 

There  was  an  accidental  chink,  as  of  money,  in  the 
Jesuit's  pocket. 

"When  you  come  back,  be  it  to-night  or  to-morrow, 
ask  for  me.  I  have  another  message  for  you  to  take, 
and  one  which  may  profit  you.  Can  I  reckon  on  you  ?  " 

"  Aye  ! "  said  Tfo  Patas. 

And  giving  each  other  good  night  they  turned  and 
parted. 

450 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

For  some  little  time  Ti'o  Patas  plodded  up  the  hillside 
wrapt  in  thought. 

When  he  reached  the  pass,  he  turned  round  and 
looked  down  upon  the  magnificent  panorama  spread 
out  beneath  the  moon  in  the  Bay  of  Santa  Fe.  But  he 
was  not  regarding  the  glories  of  Nature.  He  stood  for 
a  moment  with  his  mouth  stretched  open,  and  scratch- 
ing his  stubbly  cheek  with  his  forefinger,  then  shrugged 
his  shoulders  and  cried  "  Pish ! "  as  if  dismissing  an 
unpleasant  subject  from  his  mind.  Then,  after  stand- 
ing still  for  a  moment,  a  light  seemed  to  come  into  his 
wicked  old  eyes,  he  took  a  step  or  two  forward  to  the 
edge  of  the  cliff,  and  addressing  the  dusky  banana  trees 
which  were  rocking  their  arms  about  in  the  blackness 
of  the  slope  beneath  his  feet  — 

"Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "this  letter  is  going  to  my 
lady's  gallant  who  is  in  the  mountains  with  Carrasco. 
And  by  that  same  reason,  that  she  said  I  held  both  his 
life  and  her  own  between  my  fingers,  this  letter  should 
be  a  summons  to  him  to  meet  her.  That  much  you 
may  already  have  divined  ?  " 

The  banana  trees  whispered  to  each  other  as  the 
breeze  rose  up  from  the  sea,  then  became  silent  and 
waved  their  arms  slowly,  as  before  from  side  to  side  as 
if  they  were  listening. 

"  But,  can  you  guess,  perchance,  can  you  guess 
where  the  very  next  message  will  go  ? " 

No,  they  could  not  guess.  He  chuckled  triumphantly 
as  though  he  were  looking  down  upon  a  vast  theatre  of 
puzzled  faces. 

"Why,  God  save  us,  gentlemen,  I  did  not  suppose 
for  a  moment  that  you  could.  These  be  things  that 
need  logic,  perception,  and  no  little  understanding. 
But  I  will  keep  you  no  longer  in  suspense.  The  next 
message  will  be" — (he  paused  and  waved  his  arms 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

aloft,  leering  down  the  slope  in  a  manner  most  horrible 
to  behold)  — "for  the  Guardia  Civil." 

And  having  laughed  very  shrilly  at  their  surprise,  he 
turned  his  face  once  more  towards  the  mountains  and 
trudged  forward  on  his  dark  journey  to  the  Devil's 
Kitchen. 


452 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

"  A  piteous  corse,  a  bloody  piteous  corse, 
Pale,  pale  as  ashes,  all  bedaub'd  in  blood, 
All  in  gore-blood." 

Romeo  and  Juliet. 

*  I  ""HE  Arroyo  of  Santa  Fe,  like  many  other  mountain 
-L  streams  in  the  south  of  Spain,  is  a  furious  raging 
cataract  of  yellow  foam  for  six  weeks,  a  series  of  fetid 
pools  with  banks  of  sand  and  shingle  in  between  them, 
and  a  lazy  trickle  from  pool  to  pool  for  another  six 
weeks,  and  during  the  remainder  of  the  year,  a  dry, 
dusty  waste,  in  which  booths  are  pitched,  bunuelos  are 
fried  by  gipsies,  and  youths  alternately  pelt  each  other, 
play  at  bull-fights  with  a  pair  of  cow's  horns,  or  try 
their  skill  with  the  knife  by  slitting  sugar  canes  in  mid- 
air. There  are  more  thefts,  more  stabs,  more  insults, 
and  more  illicit  dealing  in  the  bed  of  the  Arroyo  for 
eight  or  nine  months  in  the  year  than  all  the  angry 
life-blood  of  the  mountains  can  cleanse  in  the  remaining 
three  or  four. 

The  distant  Guadalote  is  a  stately  river  of  the  plain 
and  always  has  more  or  less  water.  The  Arroyo's 
course  is  shorter  and  steeper.  When  dry,  its  bed 
affords  access  to  the  mountains  by  a  slope  which, 
though  sudden  for  water,  is  easy  for  men. 

The  course  alters  year  by  year,  boulders,  tree  trunks, 
and  other  obstacles  brought  down  by  the  torrent  com- 
pelling the  traffic  to  seek  the  easiest  path,  and  in  lazy 
Santa  Fe  it  is  often  a  subject  of  curiosity,  and  even  of 
wagers,  as  to  the  trend  of  the  river  bed  next  year.  It 

453 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

alters  by  as  much  as  two  hundred  good  paces,  and  the 
track  that  last  summer  invaded  the  hacienda  of  Don 
Jos6  upon  the  west,  this  year  has  torn  up  the  cemetery 
of  the  bull-ring  horses  and  invaded  the  plantation  of 
Don  Antonio  upon  the  east. 

Early  in  the  morning,  shortly  before  sunrise,  two 
persons  rode  along  the  river  bed  on  mules. 

The  eyes  of  both  these  silent  travellers  were  fixed 
almost  constantly  upon  the  mysterious  glow  to  their 
right  in  front  of  them,  save  when  a  ridge  of  juniper- 
covered  rock,  a  clump  of  poplars,  or  a  pepper  tree  passed 
in  between.  Even  the  talkative  might  have  been  silent, 
confronted  by  that  growing  flush  in  the  eastern  sky 
which  day  by  day  reacts  how  Cosmos,  blushing  for  his 
imperfections,  appeared  before  a  universe  of  perfect 
Night. 

In  front  was  Tfo  Patas,  his  sombrero  drawn  over  his 
eyes  and  his  capa  around  his  ears,  sniffing  the  pure  air 
of  cold  virgin  morning,  not  with  any  great  expansiveness 
of  spirit  such  as  this  air  calls  forth  in  a  man  of  single 
mind,  but  drawing  it  in  with  great  sighs  at  frequent  in- 
tervals, as  though  he  were  uneasy. 

Behind  him  rode  Carna,  in  a  dress  belonging  to 
Susana,  a  servant's  plain  black  shawl  pinned  round  her 
face.  Thus  attired,  nobody  would  have  recognized  her 
in  the  dim  light  of  early  morning. 

Day  broke  whilst  they  were  riding  through  a  ravine 
between  two  walls  of  gray  rock,  and  the  sun  came  slop- 
ing across  country  and  gilded  the  upper  edge  of  the  left- 
hand  wall  with  a  vivid  orange,  so  that  it  looked  like  a 
tall  sheet  of  battered  lead  with  a  golden  border. 

"This  seems  the  longer  way  after  all,"  said  Carna, 
presently,  drawing  nearer  to  Tfo  Patas. 

"  The  longer  and  the  shorter,  Sefiora.  I  grant  you  it 
comes  somewhat  roundabout,  but  our  mules  will  not 

454 


THE   PAGAN    AT   THE   SHRINE 

weary  so  soon  as  if  they  had  climbed  the  pass,  and  I 
warrant  you  we  will  reach  there  half  an  hour  earlier 
than  by  the  other  path." 

"  What  is  the  place  called  ?  " 

"The  Devil's  Ninepins." 

"  Good  Patas,"  said  Carna,  after  riding  some  yards  in 
silence,  "  you  know  full  well  that  my  life  is  in  your 
hands.  That  troubles  me  not,  for  I  reckon  my  life  as 
nothing,  and  besides,  I  feel  that  I  may  trust  you." 

Her  voice  belied  her  words.  The  old  man  made  a 
gesture  which  meant,  "  Of  course  you  may." 

"  But  the  life  of  my  lover,  that  is  another  thing. 
And  the  least  carelessness,  the  least  unguarded  word, 
may  have  caused  us  to  be  followed." 

She  looked  behind  her  instinctively,  but  saw  nothing 
more  than  dwarf  palm  bushes,  herbs,  rocks,  and  lizards. 
Nothing  was  stirring  down  the  long  ravine  behind  them. 

"  If  you  cannot  trust  me,"  answered  Tio  Patas,  with  a 
sudden  oblique  look  behind  him,  "  'twere  a  pity  to  be 
honest."  And  he  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  But  you  are  honest,  good  Patas,  of  that  I  am  very 
sure." 

The  poor  child  looked  up  at  him  beseechingly,  whereat 
the  old  man  cackled,  and  swore  by  all  the  saints  in 
Heaven  that  no  more  honest  fellow  had  ever  drawn 
breath,  and  why  should  she  be  so  timorous? 

"  ;  Ea !  If  you  doubt,  Seflora,  let  us  turn  back."  He 
reined  round  his  mule  and  looked  at  her  indignantly. 

"  No,  no !  "  said  Carna.     "  Forward  !  " 

And,  the  old  man  muttering  to  himself,  they  both 
pushed  on. 

As  they  continued  thus  in  silence,  Tfo  Patas  threw 
his  sombrero  back  upon  his  head  and  undid  his  capa. 
Yet  the  sunshine  was  not  strong  enough  to  warrant  his 
feeling  so  hot. 

455 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Any  one  meeting  this  strange  pair  might  have 
noticed  in  the  eyes  of  the  man  a  look  that  was  full  of 
apprehension,  which  he  seemed  conscious  of,  and  tried 
to  stifle  whenever  Carna  drew  near  to  him  or  spoke  to 
him. 

And  thus  for  another  hour  or  more  they  steadily  rode 
up  and  up. 

The  landscape  had  grown  wild  and  rugged.  Above 
them  were  forests  of  cork  trees  with  clearings,  gray 
cliffs,  and  precipices  here  and  there.  On  the  east 
these  forests  were  lighted  by  the  sun,  and  showed  a 
vivid  green ;  on  the  west  they  were  sombre  black. 

The  long  shadows  of  the  eastern  hills  were  slowly 
descending  the  slopes  and  ridges  on  the  west.  High 
up  upon  the  left,  and  behind  the  green-clothed  hills,  rose 
two  bluish  mountains,  so  far  that  one  could  not  see 
anything  but  their  colour  and  their  outline  and  the 
white  snow  upon  their  summits.  Once  Carna,  looking 
up,  saw  a  black  speck  overhead.  It  was  an  eagle. 

At  last,  turning  aside  from  the  river  bed,  they  climbed 
a  hillock,  passed  through  a  clump  of  cork  trees,  and 
looked  down  upon  a  clearing  where  nine  great  boulders 
were  scattered  here  and  there  as  if  a  giant  had  thrown 
them. 

The  eyes  of  Ti'o  Patas  were  restless,  first  turning 
towards  one  boulder,  then  towards  another.  If  a  man 
had  chosen  to  hide  there,  the  dwarf  palms  and  under- 
growth would  have  served  very  well  to  screen  him. 

"  We  must  show  ourselves,"  said  Ti'o  Patas  ;  "  and  I 
think  we  have  got  here  first." 

So  saying  he  dismounted,  and,  coming  towards  Carna, 
assisted  her  also  to  dismount.  She  followed  him  down 
into  the  middle  of  the  clearing. 

They  waited  for  fully  ten  minutes,  Carna  pacing  up 
and  down,  all  trembling,  and  now  and  then  raising  her 

456 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  her  black  shawl  thrown  back 
and  her  mass  of  silken  hair  falling  round  her  temples. 
Her  beautiful  face  was  deathly  pale. 

Tfo  Patas  stood  still  and  surveyed  the  boulders 
around  him.  Presently,  as  if  growing  impatient,  he 
clapped  his  hands.  An  answering  shout  was  heard  on 
the  margin  of  the  forest.  Carna's  heart  leapt  within 
her. 

A  moment  afterwards,  Juan,  still  in  his  glittering 
suit  of  green  majo  with  a  handkerchief  bound  round 
his  head  and  over  his  left  cheek-bone  and  temple,  his 
eyes  looking  fiercely  eager,  yet  dark  with  anguish,  came 
bounding  down  the  hillock  towards  them,  as  fine  a  look- 
ing man  as  ever  put  foot  in  Santa  Fe. 

The  lines  of  horror,  remorse,  and  almost  of  despair 
were  obliterated  for  a  moment  from  his  features  when 
he  sprang  towards  Carna.  He  looked  so  brave,  so 
gallant  and  reckless,  that  even  Tfo  Patas  paused  to 
glance  at  him  from  beneath  his  restless  eyelids,  then 
walked  away  with  a  sigh. 

And  before  the  lovers  could  speak,  whilst  yet  they 
were  pressing  each  other's  hands,  from  behind  every 
boulder  rose  a  Guardia  Civil,  and  covered  Juan  with  his 
rifle. 

Juan  first  heard  Carna  scream,  then  felt  her  clinging 
to  him,  before  he  caught  sight  of  a  captain  who  ran 
towards  him  with  drawn  sword. 

When  he  looked  round  him  he  realized  his  position. 
A  great  horror  and  loathing  came  into  his  eyes ;  he 
seized  Carna  by  her  two  wrists,  tore  her  from  him,  and 
with  set  teeth  cast  her  away  from  him,  loading  her  with 
bitter  curses. 

"  You  are  my  prisoner,"  said  the  captain. 

"  So  it  would  appear,"  said  Juan  scornfully,  his  face 
ashen  white. 

457 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"You  have  slain  a  captain  of  the  Civil  Guard." 

"  Most  true." 

"  You  do  not  deny  it  ? " 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  freely  admit  it." 

"  That  simplifies  matters." 

"  Why  ? " 

"  I  will  tell  you,  after  this  lady  has  retired." 

He  looked  towards  Carna  with  a  sneer.  He  was  a 
handsome  fellow  with  a  black  moustache,  and  the 
moustache  rose  up  towards  his  nose. 

"  I  will  not  go,  I  will  not  go,"  moaned  Carna. 

"  As  you  please,  Sefiora,"  and  again  he  turned  to 
Juan  and  said  to  him  — 

"  I  have  received  certain  orders.  I  am  a  soldier,  and 
those  orders  must  be  carried  out." 

"  What  are  your  orders  ?  " 

"  My  orders  were,  Sefior "  (here  the  captain  came 
closer  and  spoke  in  his  ear)  "that  you  would  attempt  to 
escape." 

Juan  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  without  flinching,  and 
understood. 

"  Show  me  the  spot  where  I  stand  to  escape,"  he  said 
bitterly. 

"Why,  sir,  unless  you  have  any  preference  in  the 
matter,  it  seems  to  me  you  stand  admirably  where  you 
are." 

"You  need  not  keep  your  men  behind  me,"  said 
Juan,  and,  taking  the  bandage  from  his  face,  he  bound 
his  own  ankles  together  and  doubly  knotted  the  linen. 

"  I  thank  you,"  said  the  captain,  "  and  congratulate 
you  on  your  coolness.  What  I  have  to  do  I  shall  do 
with  profound  regret." 

He  saluted. 

Juan  folded  his  arms  across  his  breast;  then,  as 
though  with  some  scornful  purpose,  folded  them  behind 

458 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

his  back  and  watched  the  firing  party.  The  captain 
motioned  to  the  Civil  Guards  to  range  themselves  in 
front  of  him.  They  fell  in,  two  deep. 

Carna  had  watched  these  proceedings  with  distended 
eyes  and  slowly  curling  lip.  At  last  she  comprehended 
what  was  about  to  take  place. 

"  Oh,  no !  no ! "  she  cried,  springing  towards  the 
captain  like  a  madwoman,  and  hanging  on  his  arm ; 
"this  is  some  horrible  farce  —  you  are  pretending." 

"  You  are  right,  Senora,"  replied  the  Guardsman  with 
a  sneer ;  "  this  is  indeed  a  farce,  and  very  well  acted. 
Faith,  you  have  too  pretty  a  face,  though,  to  screw  it  in 
such  wrinkles,  and  all  for  nothing." 

She  looked  at  him  wildly,  open-mouthed,  and  shook 
his  arm. 

"  Absolutely  for  nothing,  Sefiora,"  he  continued  some- 
what more  impatiently,  "  since  the  audience  you  are  acting 
for  will  not  be  here  to  clap  you  when  the  curtain  falls." 

He  beckoned  to  one  of  the  Civil  Guards,  who  laid 
down  his  rifle  and  came  running  towards  him. 

"  Help  this  good  lady  away,"  said  the  captain,  "  and 
oblige  her  by  appearing  to  be  very  violent." 

The  Civil  Guard  took  hold  of  Carna  under  her  right 
arm.  Though  speechless,  she  still  clung  to  the  captain. 

"  j  Caracoles  !  You  would  almost  deceive  the  devil !  " 
cried  the  captain.  And  he  looked  at  her  wonderingly, 
as  if  half  doubting  whether  she  were  in  earnest  after  all. 

Tio  Patas  came  towards  them.  The  captain  spoke  to 
him.  The  Civil  Guard  and  Tio  Patas  between  them 
succeeded  in  tearing  her  away. 

"  Oh,  not  this,  not  this !  "  screamed  Carna,  trying  to 
struggle  back,  and  writhing  and  twisting  in  their  grasp. 
"  As  there  is  a  God  in  Heaven,  and  a  Christ  that  was 
crucified,  man,  if  you  be  born  of  woman,  will  you  shoot 
him  before  my  very  eyes  ?  " 

459 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  That  is  precisely  what  I  am  so  averse  to  doing, 
Seflora,  and  for  that  reason  I  wish  you  to  withdraw." 

"  Hold  !  "  cried  Juan. 

They  all  looked  at  him. 

"Decoy!  strumpet!  murderess!  This  farce  is  all 
in  vain,  for  it  does  not  deceive  me.  Go  in  silence  and 
hide  thyself  in  hell!  What  dark  agent  first  bade  thee 
ensnare  me  in  thy  bedchamber  I  do  not  know,  and  half 
believed  thee  guiltless,  but  now  I  know  thee  for  the  dead 
man's  paramour." 

"  j  Ay !  "  cried  Carna,  "  he  does  not  believe  me." 

"  Believe  what,  Seflora  ? "  asked  the  captain  with  a 
puzzled  frown. 

"  Who  told  you  that  we  would  meet  each  other  here  ?  " 

"  Your  servant,  Seflora." 

And  the  captain  pointed  to  T/o  Patas,  whose  face  was 
almost  buried  in  his  breast. 

It  was  then  that  Carna,  raising  her  arms  aloft,  gave 
such  a  thrilling  scream  that  the  squad  of  Civil  Guards 
shuddered  where  they  rested  on  their  rifles.  The  scream 
came  echoing  back  from  the  ridges  above  them  and 
around  them,  and  birds  flew  twittering  up  from  the 
foliage,  bewildered  at  the  sound. 

"  Move  her,  at  least,  out  of  the  line  of  fire,"  said  the 
captain  ;  then  turning  to  the  firing  party  — 

"  j  Firmes  !  " 

Tfo  Patas  and  the  Guardsman  dragged  Carna  strug- 
gling away.  All  the  bank  notes  in  his  pocket  the  old 
man  had  forgotten,  his  forehead  was  covered  with  sweat. 

"  j  Apunten  !  " 

Eight  rifles  covered  Juan  who  waved  his  right  hand 
and  laughed  hoarsely,  crying,  "The  journey  pleases 
me,  Sefiores ;  your  world  smells  very  foul !  " 

"  j  Fuego  !  " 

As  the  smoke  rose  from  in  front  of  them  the  Civil 
460 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Guards  saw  Juan  lurch  back,  then  fall  forward  like  a 
log  among  the  wild  thyme. 

Two  bullets  had  traversed  his  skull,  and  one  was  in 
his  heart. 

Two  men  stood  beside  a  boulder  round  which  they 
had  attempted  to  drag  the  poor  witness  of  this  scene. 
With  frenzied  power  she  strained  forward,  as  though 
she  would  break  the  slender  wrists  by  which  they  held 
her.  When  they  loosed  her  towards  the  corpse  she 
fell  upon  her  knees  crying,  "Take  him  my  rosary  —  it 
has  a  black  cross  of  ebony ;  my  mother  and  I  have 
kissed  it  many  a  time.  Let  him  swear  to  me !  Let 
him  swear !  For  that  was  the  Eve  of  St.  John,  and  now 
it  has  come  again." 

She  had  lost  her  reason. 


461 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

"  Accursed  be  the  bitternesse  of  my  sinne,  for  whiche 
Ther  must  be  suffered  so  moche  bitternesse." 

The  Persones  Tale.1 

OUTSIDE  the  little  Fonda  del  Trini,  beyond  Cinco 
Caminos,  an  expectant  group  of  idlers  were  await- 
ing the  diligence.  The  schoolmaster  was  there,  seated 
upon  a  stone,  with  his  hat  between  his  knees  to  catch 
the  tobacco  dust  from  a  cigarette  which  he  rolled  be- 
tween his  fingers.  He  put  his  head  first  on  one  side, 
then  upon  the  other,  as  he  adjusted  each  end  of  the 
cigarette  and  closed  the  paper  inwards. 

Three  or  four  fishermen  stood  round  the  schoolmaster 
with  their  brown  hands  behind  their  backs  and  the  red 
sun  just  catching  their  foreheads  as  it  dipped  behind 
the  wall  and  sank  into  the  sea. 

Far  along  the  dusty,  thirsty  road,  two  black  specks 
showed  where  a  patrol  of  Guardia  Civil  were  pacing 
slowly  towards  the  Guadalote,  their  white  pugarees 
showing  like  snowflakes  in  the  red  light  of  a  cottage 
window,  their  rifles,  like  two  black  pins,  swaying  from 
side  to  side  in  measured  pace. 

The  discussion  had  been  animated,  and  several  pairs 
of  eyes  bent  upon  the  distant  patrol  showed  that  the 
Guardia  Civil  had  something  to  do  with  it. 

The  village  priest  was  there,  and  even  the  barber. 
For  when  the  gossips  will  not  come  to  the  barber,  the 
barber  must  go  to  the  gossips,  even  though  the  silent 
go  unshaven.  Outside  the  group  some  dozen  children 

1  From  which  several  phrases  in  this  chapter  are  derived. 
462 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

were  sucking  eleven  fingers  and  one  piece  of  sugar  cane, 
all  very  dirty,  the  sugar  cane  dirtiest  of  all.  These  chil- 
dren were  listening  open-eyed  to  the  discussion  of  a  dire 
event.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the  way,  two  Jesuit  nov- 
ices were  quietly  awaiting  the  diligence,  and  the  idlers, 
putting  two  and  two  together,  had  already  guessed  that 
they  were  there  to  meet  the  Father  Rector. 

Presently,  those  who  continued  staring  along  the  road 
saw  a  cloudy  appearance  in  the  far  distance ;  then  the 
two  black  specks  separated,  one  on  each  side  of  the 
highway ;  next  they  became  enveloped  in  an  advancing 
storm  of  dust,  and  this  storm,  coming  rapidly  nearer, 
was  seen  to  contain  a  diligence  and  nine  mules  whose 
bells  were  already  growing  louder. 

Day  had  changed  to  night  in  the  few  minutes  that 
elapsed  between  its  leaving  the  Guadalote  and  its  draw- 
ing up  outside  the  Fonda  del  Trini. 

"  It  is  just  eight  years  ago  this  month,"  thought  Padre 
Ignacio  to  himself,  as  the  novices  bent  over  his  hand  and 
raised  it  to  their  lips,  "  since  I  lifted  down  my  own  bag- 
gage into  the  Fonda,  lonely  and  forlorn,  suspected  of  all 
people  in  Santa  Fe,  but  trusted  by  our  great  Company 
with  a  scheme  of  no  small  account." 

Then,  turning  towards  the  by-standers,  he  said  — 

"  Good  evening,  friends ;  may  you  remain  with  God." 

He  bowed  to  them,  and  smiled.  The  two  novices 
shouldered  his  baggage  as  the  people  returned  his 
greeting. 

"  Eight  years  ago  !  "  mused  the  Rector,  turning  away. 
"  What  changes  have  come  since  then  !  '  Suspected  of 
Santa  Fe,  but  trusted  by  our  Company,'  said  I  ?  That 
also  has  changed.  Yet  I  cannot  but  remember  that 
eight  years  ago  they  entrusted  me  with  a  scheme  of  no 
small  account,  which,  by  God's  help  and  not  my  own 
intelligence,  I  carried  through.  Therefore,  why  should 

463 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

I  resent  their  giving  the  whole  thanks  to  God  ?  And 
even  if  I  did  it,  to  have  done  a  thing  —  is  to  have  done 
it,  nothing  more.  Where  now  lies  the  architect  who 
fashioned  yon  Cathedral?" 

As  they  turned  to  go  up  the  hill  three  small  children 
ran  after  the  Father  Rector  to  press  their  sticky  little 
lips  upon  his  hand. 

These  were  the  younger  children,  and,  when  they 
came  back,  the  older  ones,  who  had  followed  the  late 
discussion  and  formed  conclusions,  cuffed  their  ears 
for  "Judases  and  Jesuits."  Then  three  booing  voices 
toddled  away  on  six  brown  legs  to  ask  their  mothers 
what  was  "  Ju-ju-ju-das." 

Climbing  the  hill,  Padre  Ignacio  questioned  the  nov- 
ices as  to  the  welfare  of  the  College. 

"  All  was  well,"  they  said. 

But  once  or  twice  they  glanced  at  each  other  fur- 
tively. The  Father  Rector  was  too  buried  in  his  own 
thoughts  to  notice  it. 

He  had  already  changed  his  clothes  and  begun  his 
meal  when  Padre  Martinez  bowed  to  him  and  welcomed 
him.  The  eyes  of  the  superior  had  a  something  inde- 
finable when  they  met  the  black  eyes  of  the  lieutenant. 
It  was  not  resentment,  not  even  reproach,  but  rather  a 
forbearance  of  the  weary  soul  which  says,  "Though  I 
know  thee  for  a  traitor,  come,  let  us  live  in  peace." 

The  other,  if  he  understood  this  patient  look,  was  not 
in  a  cool  enough  mood  to  dwell  upon  it.  His  eager 
black  eyes  were  never  so  restless  in  their  sockets  as 
to-night. 

For  a  while  the  two  priests  conversed  upon  common- 
place matters,  and  the  Rector,  half  rising  from  his  chair, 
poured  out  a  glass  of  wine,  and  gently  pushed  it  towards 
Padre  Martinez,  then  filled  another  for  himself. 

Then  he  fell  back  into  his  chair  with  a  quiet  sigh,  and 
464 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

hearing  the  distant  thrill  of  the  organ,  said  with  a  smile, 
"  Vespers  !  I  should  like  to  say  a  few  words  to  the 
College  before  they  leave  the  chapel." 

"They  will  expect  it,"  said  Padre  Martinez,  "  for  it  is 
your  custom,  upon  your  return,  to  do  so." 

"  Not  that  I  have  anything  particular  to  say,"  con- 
tinued the  Rector,  becoming  abstracted,  and  half  turn- 
ing his  head  to  look  out  upon  the  orchard  whence  rose 
the  well-known  perfume  of  orange  blossoms  borne  from 
the  sleeping  vega. 

"  I  have  something  to  say  to  you,"  interrupted  Padre 
Martinez,  after  a  brief  pause. 

And  as  if  the  generous  wine  would  help  him  out,  he 
took  up  the  glass  and  drained  it  to  the  bottom.  Padre 
Ignacio  turned  back  to  the  table  with  a  sigh,  and, 
having  moved  an  easy  chair  towards  the  other,  busied 
himself  with  a  silver  knife  upon  his  fruit. 

"  My  views  upon  certain  matters,"  began  Padre 
Martinez,  when  he  had  sat  down,  "  though  moulded  to 
your  own  "  (the  Rector  smiled),  "  are,  alas  !  so  irrepres- 
sible that  they  have  broken  all  bonds." 

Padre  Ignacio  bowed,  but  made  no  comment.  Each 
knew  that  this  fracture  of  discipline  was  countenanced 
by  the  Provincial.  It  would  have  been  idle  to  discuss 
the  matter,  and  the  Rector  scorned  to  do  so. 

"  It  is  not,  therefore,  to  be  wondered  at,"  continued 
Padre  Martinez,  "  that  after  your  departure  events 
shaped  themselves  upon  different  lines  to  those  they 
would  have  followed  had  you  been  here.  Do  not  mis- 
take me.  I  do  not  imply  that  my  hand  has  wrought 
an  improvement.  I  am  such  a  miserable  worm,  that 
confidence  and  pride  but  ill  become  me." 

"Enough  of  formalities  !  "  said  the  other  coldly. 

Padre  Martinez  bit  his  lip. 

"  To  return  to  my  confession  —  " 
2  H  465 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

"  To  your  report.  We  only  confess  what  we  believe 
to  be  wrong." 

"  To  my  report.  For  long,  as  you  know  yourself, 
we  had  wondered  who  was  the  prime  mover  in  this 
agitation." 

"And  you  have  found  him  ?     Well  done !  " 

"  That  Fernandez  had  a  hand  in  it,  we  knew.  Yet  he 
was  but  one  of  the  less  dangerous  ringleaders,  for  at 
least  he  was  an  open  enemy,  a  blundering  quick- 
tongued  fool,  easily  watched  and  harmless.  I,  for  my 
part,  never  suspected  Fernandez  of  filching  secrets 
from  us,  such  as  that  affair  of  the  Testament  with 
marked  passages  that  came  from  France  —  you  will 
remember  ? " 

The  Rector  made  a  slight  gesture  with  his  hand. 

"  I  told  you  at  the  time  to  whom  I  attributed  it,"  he 
said. 

"  Yes.  To  the  Bishop  of  Santa  Fe.  And  I  ventured 
to  think,  as  you  may  remember —  " 

"  That  the  Bishop  was  a  bigger  fool  even  than  Fer- 
nandez," interrupted  the  Rector,  almost  with  a  yawn. 
"  Possibly  you  were  right  and  I  was  wrong.  Who  was 
it  after  all?" 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Padre  Martinez,  "  did  you  not  say, 
Father,  that  once  whilst  in  Paris  you  had  an  audience 
with — " 

The  speaker  bent  forward  and  whispered  a  name. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  Rector,  showing  some  interest; 
"  it  was  my  good  fortune  to  carry  her  a  message,  and  to 
take  one  back." 

"  Would  she  have  cause  to  write  to  you  ? " 

"  Here  in  Santa  Fe  ? " 

"Aye." 

The  Rector  smiled. 

"  She  would  not  even  remember  my  name." 
466 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

"You  had  received  no  letters  from  her,  addressed 
simply  to  the  '  Father  Rector,'  no  cypher  despatches, 
nothing  whatever  ? " 

"  No,"  replied  the  Rector  shortly,  his  eyes  fixed  won- 
deringly  upon  the  other's  face. 

Padre  Martinez  almost  smiled  in  his  incredulity. 
His  face  said  very  plainly,  "Why  do  you  keep  up 
this  deception  ?  Why  should  you  refuse  to  let  me 
know  ? " 

"I  confess,"  the  Rector  continued  coldly,  "that  your 
suggestions  are  very  strange  to  me.  But  no  doubt  you 
have  good  reason.  What  is  the  name  of  the  person 
whom  you  suspect  ?  " 

"  Let  me  ask  you,"  said  Padre  Martinez.  "  Were 
you  to  know  some  one  person  as  a  socialist,  an  atheist, 
and  a  consorter  with  our  enemies,  were  you  to  hear 
him  propose  that  this  College  be  made  a  picture  gallery, 
what  would  you  think  of  his  feelings  towards  the  Com- 
pany ?  " 

"Your  problem  is  not  a  difficult  one  to  solve,"  re- 
turned the  Rector  almost  scornfully,  and  wondering 
what  all  this  preface  might  portend. 

Padre  Martinez  rose  from  his  chair  and  took  a  step 
or  two  towards  the  open  balcony. 

"  Were  you  to  verify  his  enmity  towards  us,  and  to 
find  in  his  possession  an  intercepted  letter,  from  the 
great  lady  whom  I  name,  addressed  'To  the  Father 
Rector,'  what  would  you  think  of  his  intentions  and 
pursuits  ? " 

"I  presume,"  said  the  Rector,  "that  very  little  logic 
would  be  required  for  me  to  label  him  a  rabid  anti- 
Jesuit." 

"  Such  a  person,"  continued  Padre  Martinez,  advanc- 
ing into  the  room  again,  his  hands  tightly  clasping  each 
other,  his  merciless  eyes  full  of  a  cruel  triumph,  "  has 

467 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

been  found.  Two  days  ago  he  murdered  a  captain  of 
the  Civil  Guards,  from  which  you  may  judge  his  charac- 
ter. Since  yesterday  the  Civil  Guards  have  been  hunt- 
ing him  in  the  mountains  —  " 

"Hush!" 

The  Rector  raised  his  hand,  looking  towards  the  door, 
for  some  one  had  knocked. 

It  was  a  lay  brother,  who  said  to  the  Rector — "An 
officer  of  the  Civil  Guards  is  asking  for  you  below." 

"  Go  !  "  said  the  Rector  coldly,  turning  towards  Padre 
Martinez.  "This  dtnotiment  for  which  you  have  la- 
boured so  zealously  seems  to  have  come  at  last.  To 
you  belongs  the  honour  of  the  first  fruit.  I  will  speak 
with  you  after  vespers,  for  the  service  is  nearly  at  an 
end  and  I  am  late." 

When  the  door  had  closed,  the  Rector  still  tarried 
a  few  moments,  waiting  for  that  pause  in  the  service 
which  comes  after  the  last  chant. 

And  the  balmy  wind  that  came  in  through  his  orchard 
brought  many  memories. 

At  first  his  mind  dwelt  upon  this  tragedy  which 
seemed  to  have  happened,  and  although  the  culprit, 
whoever  he  might  be,  no  doubt  deserved  his  punish- 
ment, the  world  seemed  so  sweetly  peaceful  this  sum- 
mer's night  that  he  shrank  from  hearing  the  worst. 
Then  it  occurred  to  him  that  perhaps  the  Civil  Guard 
had  failed  to  entrap  the  man,  and  had  come  for  some 
further  clue,  or  to  bring  some  further  report. 

At  all  events,  the  story  was  impersonal  as  yet,  pos- 
sibly the  man  was  unknown  to  him ;  Padre  Martinez 
had  not  even  troubled  to  name  him. 

And,  leaning  out  of  his  balcony  and  looking  towards 
the  right,  he  could  just  see  the  coloured  light  from  a 
window  of  the  chapel.  Presently  the  chant  arose  once 
more.  The  return  to  the  College  and  to  old  associa- 

468 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

tions,  combining  with  the  influence  of  scents  and  music, 
carried  his  thoughts  away  from  these  sordid  things,  this 
battling  with  mean  foes. 

The  distant  vega  sent  him  old  memories  gently  wafted 
through  the  orchard  down  below,  and  the  breeze  that 
played  with  his  white  curls  whispered  of  a  young  priest 
who  used  to  kneel  beside  the  oak  panels  of  the  organ 
loft  in  the  college  at  Ghent,  who  used  to  spend  whole 
nights  beside  his  casement  upon  his  knees,  overcome 
by  spiritual  emotion. 

Alas !  The  soaring  spirit  of  those  days,  how  little 
had  it  attained !  All  these  dead  years  and  hopes,  to 
what  had  they  brought  him  ? 

Then  arose  a  later  picture.  The  zealous  priest,  chosen 
to  prepare  the  way  and  to  make  the  paths  straight.  His 
remorse,  so  quickly  swallowed  up  in  that  flood  of  weak 
human  gloating  upon  his  son.  And  then  the  returning 
of  his  son,  the  dreadful  announcement!  Had  some 
cruel  fate  decreed  that  this  picture,  with  time,  should 
grow  blacker  ?  No,  the  climax  had  been  reached. 
Surely  the  punishment  had  been  consummated !  Yet 
—  still  they  were  lost  in  a  dark  forest.  But  whilst  there 
was  life  there  was  hope.  How  many  were  there  who 
had  passed  through  this  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death  ! 
Where  was  his  son  to-night  ?  Why  was  his  dear  face 
not  here  to  welcome  him  ?  Had  he  not  written  to 
Juan,  announcing  his  return  ? 

This  vexed  him,  and,  as  he  lifted  aside  the  baize  cur- 
tain of  the  chapel  and  bowed  and  crossed  himself,  he 
was  lost  in  thought  —  so  lost  in  thought  that  he  had 
not  caught  the  respectful  "  Good  evening,  Father !  "  of 
a  Civil  Guard,  who  stood  in  the  shadow  of  the  door  to 
arrest  his  progress. 

Something  (whether  the  turning  of  many  faces  to  the 
door  behind  him,  or  the  sound  of  spurred  heels  upon  the 

469 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

marble)  awakened  the  Rector  from  his  abstraction  and 
caused  him,  already  halfway  up  the  chapel,  to  look 
round.  In  kthe  doorway  he  saw  the  motionless  figure 
of  a  Civil  Guard  who  was  standing  with  his  three-peaked 
cap  in  one  hand  and  a  piece  of  paper  in  the  other.  Al- 
ready he  had  knelt  and  crossed  himself  upon  coming  in 
sight  of  the  crucifix,  and  remained  at  the  entrance,  as 
though  unwilling  to  intrude.  He  was  holding  the  red 
baize  curtains  aside  with  his  arms,  and  the  glow  of  the 
altar  candles  fell  upon  his  white  and  red  facings,  spar- 
kling upon  the  golden  braid  and  sword-hilt. 

Hesitating  at  first,  the  Rector  seemed  to  be  drawn 
towards  this  strange  visitor,  and  as  he  turned  back  the 
Guardsman  came  to  meet  him. 

From  the  gloved  hand  of  the  soldier  the  Rector  took 
a  letter,  stained  with  a  terrible  crimson  round  the  margin 
of  a  bullet  hole  which  had  effaced  the  signature.  With 
it  was  an  open  envelope,  and  both  envelope  and  letter 
bore  a  golden  fleur  de  lys. 

"  This,"  said  the  Guardsman  in  an  undertone,  "  was 

taken  from  the  corpse  of  Don  Juan  Nieto,  who  was  shot 

whilst  attempting  to  escape  from  us,  soon  after  sunrise. 

It  is  addressed  '  To  the  Father  Rector  of  the  College.'  " 

##****## 

A  lurid  vision,  rapid  as  the  flight  of  a  passing  bat  that 
crossed  the  chapel  at  that  moment,  seared  itself  into 
the  Rector's  very  brain.  Each  object,  each  sound,  each 
colour  in  the  scene  seemed  to  him  as  vivid  —  aye,  far 
more  vivid  —  than  they  had  been  in  reality  many  years 
ago. 

Across  the  valley  of  Guipuzcoa  the  goat  bells  were 
ringing  once  again,  the  church  bells  proclaimed  the 
angelus,  and  the  shepherds'  voices  went  echoing  up  the 
hillside  and  into  the  woods. 

Once  more  he  was  in  the  charcoal-burner's  cottage 
470 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

in  the  forest,  by  the  elfish  glow  of  the  open  hearth, 
with  the  shadows  of  herbs  and  hams  dancing  upon  the 
rafters,  but  this  time  as  an  onlooker. 

And  he  saw  a  caressing  hand  that  closed  upon  a  letter 
in  the  young  priest's  bosom,  that  drew  it  forth  and  cast 
it  into  the  shadows. 

Next,  he  stood  beside  a  death-bed.  With  tortured 
spirit  he  looked  upon  the  passing  of  Teresa,  saw  the 
village  priest  come  in  with  the  Last  Sacrament,  heard 
the  death-rattle,  knew  that  she  had  left  behind  her  a 
casket. 

His  eyes  pierced  the  lid  of  the  casket.  He  saw  what 
it  contained. 

Three  times  the  Rector  tried  to  begin  his  homily,  but 
not  until  the  third  time  could  a  single  word  be  forced 
from  those  ashen  lips. 

His  left  hand  was  pressed  against  his  heart.  With 
his  right  hand  he  leant  against  the  stonework  of  the 
pulpit. 

At  first  he  had  turned  the  leaves  of  a  book  aimlessly 
to  left  and  right,  looking  down  at  the  upturned  faces 
in  the  dusk  as  though  he  were  looking  through  the 
ground  and  through  the  earth,  beholding  the  torturing 
fires  that  burned  in  Hell. 

At  first  his  words  were  wholly  indistinguishable  ;  then, 
gradually,  they  took  form,  and  by  some  fierce  exertion 
of  the  Rector's  proud  will  upon  the  sluggish  tongue  that 
for  a  while  had  refused  obedience,  his  sermon  was  heard 
by  every  one  there  assembled,  even  by  the  Civil  Guard, 
whom  Padre  Martinez  had  motioned  to  a  seat  beneath 
the  pulpit. 

As  the  speaker  went  on,  his  delivery,  though  always 
obeying  the  same  relentless  artificial  force,  without 
which  it  had  altogether  faltered,  grew  so  clear  and 


THE   PAGAN   AT  THE   SHRINE 

impressive  as  to  hold  his  listeners  spellbound.  There 
was  a  something  awful  in  the  Rector's  voice ;  there  was 
a  presage  of  calamity  in  the  very  air. 

He  had  to  tell  them  of  a  young  man,  a  youth  who 
denied  his  Master  thrice  before  the  cock  crew  twice, 
then,  trying  to  render  holy  a  mind  which  was  foul  of 
nature,  contrived  to  be  received  into  the  Company  of 
Jesus,  believing,  either  in  his  vanity  or  in  the  twisted 
intelligence  that  Satan  had  put  into  him,  that  a  wretched 
infidel  can  be  made  into  a  model  of  piety. 

This  youth  mistook  emotion  for  belief,  and  a  love  of 
shape  and  colour  for  a  love  of  holiness.  In  reality  his 
soul  was  inaccessible  to  anything  but  lust,  for  his  soul 
was  of  the  flesh. 

And  one  day,  walking  through  the  woods  upon  an 
errand,  this  novice  looked  a  woman  in  the  eyes.  A 
humble  and  helpless  girl,  born  and  nurtured  in  the 
wilderness,  ignorant  of  the  devil  and  all  his  ways,  little 
dreaming  that  one  of  Satan's  ministers  stood  there 
before  her. 

Surely,  the  priest  that  is  capable  of  deadly  sin  is  like 
an  angel  of  darkness  disguised  as  an  angel  of  light,  in 
which  apparel,  God  help  those  who  meet  with  him. 
Had  this  young  Jesuit  but  followed  the  fundamental 
precepts  of  his  order,  that  same  day  he  must  have 
confessed  his  lust.  Yet,  did  he  ? 

No  ;  so  lovely  was  sin  in  his  eyes  that  he  dreaded  the 
result  of  his  confession.  He  foresaw  that  he  would  be 
saved  from  his  own  vile  impulses,  and  he  wilfully 
eluded  the  common  precautions  that  must  ever  be 
observed,  to  detect  and  rescue  the  roguish  flesh. 

It  was  his  daily  task  to  bring  in  the  correspondence, 
a  post  of  great  trust  in  those  troublous  days,  and  how 
did  he  perform  it? 

472 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

Tarrying  one  night  in  the  cottage  with  this  young 
girl,  she  took  from  his  bosom,  unknown  to  him,  the 
most  important  secret  letter  with  which  he  had  ever 
been  entrusted.  Deeming  it  a  love  message  —  for, 
truly,  her  own  knowledge  of  his  lustful  nature  taught 
her  how  to  appraise  him  —  she  hid  it  away.  Even  when ' 
she  learned  that  it  was  an  important  despatch,  like  some 
poor  magpie,  she  still  concealed  it,  hoping  that  its 
secret  might  some  day  be  of  service,  might  have  a 
selling  price.  And  so,  no  doubt,  it  had. 

The  despatch  was  sought  in  vain,  the  forest  was 
scoured  by  night  with  lighted  torches,  and  even  the 
next  day.  In  vain  ! 

In  due  time  there  happened  —  what  was  sure  to  hap- 
pen from  the  first !  Aye  !  From  the  first  moment  that 
he  failed  to  confess  himself,  for  the  hidden  sin  had 
destroyed  his  conscience.  What  think  ye  of  a  man 
that  has  a  dangerous  wound  in  his  body  ?  Does  he  not 
hasten  to  cleanse  and  dress  it  ?  Or  does  he  leave  his 
wound  to  corrupt  and  fester,  so  hastening  on  his  death  ? 
So  is  it  with  confession. 

This  young  man  committed  the  most  horrible  crime, 
the  most  shameless  theft  that  a  sinner  can  commit.  He 
stole  a  woman's  chastity,  which  is  a  theft  of  body  and 
of  soul. 

What  then  ?     Did  he  not  yet  confess  ? 

Oh,  no.  Though  confession  now  seemed  necessary, 
the  shame  of  it  was  too  great.  Though  he  that 
has  done  the  sin  should  have  the  shame  of  the 
confession. 

A  child  was  born,  a  child  of  sin,  foredoomed  (poor 
innocent ! )  to  pay  an  awful  penalty ! 

What  course  did  our  novice  now  pursue  ? 

"  Stay,  that  I  may  tell  you  more  of  him.  Then  you 
may  foretell  his  actions. 

473 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  He  was  disobedient,  for  he  ignored  the  commands 
of  the  Most  High. 

"  He  was  presumptuous,  for  he  had  undertaken  a  task 
for  which  he  was  ill  equipped. 

"  He  was  obstinate,  for  he  defended  his  sinful  folly, 
and  trusted  too  much  in  his  own  wit. 

"  He  was  selfish,  holding  his  own  delight  of  more  im- 
portance than  the  injury  of  his  fellows. 

"  He  was  hypocritical,  for  he  feared  to  show  himself 
such  as  he  was,  and  therefore  showed  himself  such  as 
he  was  not. 

"  He  was  vainglorious,  for  he  loved  pomp  of  decora- 
tions and  of  ceremonies,  delighting  in  temporal  high- 
ness. 

"  Lastly,  he  was  cursed  with  pride,  which  is  the  root 
of  all  deadly  sin.  For  as  the  devil  fell  by  pride,  so 
he  assaults  virtue  in  us  principally  by  that  temptation. 
This  young  novice  had  read  his  lives  of  the  saints,  and 
amongst  other  passages,  this,  — '  Antony,  I  will  always 
protect  thee,  and  will  render  thy  name  famous  through- 
out the  earth.' 

"  Oh,  mockery  of  mockeries !  Not  only  did  saintly 
teachings  turn  to  foul  purpose  and  lend  themselves  to 
pride  in  this  poor  sinner,  but  the  very  saint  who  above 
all  others  proved  most  unassailable  to  lewd  temptations 
was  the  one  whose  example  was  perverted  to  evil  ends. 
Any  other  person  would  have  been  convinced,  at  his 
own  downfall,  that  he  was  unfit  to  become  a  priest. 
Pride  told  our  novice  otherwise,  bade  him  avoid  all 
shame,  and  aspire  to  all  greatness  and  repute,  like  the 
selfish  vainglorious  hypocrite  that  he  was !  He  con- 
spired that  his  own  brother  should  take  this  woman 
away,  allowing  people  to  think  that  the  child  was  his  — 
the  brother's.  Thus  hoped  our  wicked  novice  to  escape 
the  chastisement  of  his  own  crime;  but,  mark  my 

474 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

words,  in  that  moment  he  doubled  the  blackness  of  his 
foul  sin." 

When  the  Rector,  pressing  with  both  hands  tightly 
upon  his  side,  reached  this  point  of  his  story,  all  eyes 
were  bent  wonderingly  upon  him.  The  speaker's  lips 
were  parched,  his  face  wore  a  deathly  pallor.  The 
light  from  the  one  candle  in  the  pulpit  seemed  to  fall 
on  a  living  corpse. 

His  listeners  felt  spellbound  with  curiosity,  for  they 
realized  that  the  Rector  must  have  witnessed  some  por- 
tion of  the  tragedy  he  spoke  about  so  feelingly.  The 
organist,  uncertain  at  first  whether  his  services  would 
be  needed,  had  come  to  the  edge  of  the  gallery,  and, 
leaning  on  the  wooden  rail,  was  gazing  down  earnestly 
at  him. 

There  were  even  those  who  felt  that  some  tie  existed 
between  the  Rector  and  this  unknown  culprit. 

Padre  Ignacio  drank  water  from  a  glass  beside  him 
and  continued  hoarsely,  and  in  a  voice  whose  failing 
strength  yet  held  some  strain  of  sympathy  — 

"  And  now  commenced  some  fifteen  years  of  bitter 
tribulation,  of  want,  of  misery,  and  degradation  —  of 
shame,  chastisement,  hunger,  poverty,  rags,  beggary, 
hopelessness ! 

"  Ha  !  You  seem  to  look  approvingly  !  '  This  man,' 
you  would  say,  '  at  least  had  his  reward.' 

"  Nay !  This  hard  lot  I  speak  about  was  not  for  the 
offender,  but  for  his  victim ;  not  for  the  man,  but  for 
the  woman,  and  for  her  helpless  offspring. 

"The  brother,  after  a  twelvemonth,  wearied  of  her. 
She  bore  him  her  second  child.  Then  he  cast  her  off. 
Her  bones  lie  yonder  in  the  cemetery.  They  were 
carried  there  in  the  pauper's  coffin  and  shot  into  a 
pit." 

475 


THE    PAGAN    AT   THE   SHRINE 

The  Rector  raised  his  arm  and  pointed  in  the  direction 
of  the  little  graveyard  of  Cinco  Caminos. 

The  chapel  might  have  been  empty,  it  was  so  void  of 
sound.  A  great  breathless  hush  had  come  over  them 
all;  they  felt  that  this  unclean  history  was  coming 
nearer. 

"  In  time,  the  criminal  heard  of  this  bitter  history. 
But  he  had  grown  respected  and  well  thought  upon. 
He  held  his  head  high,  and  was  raised  to  a  post  of  trust 
in  our  great  fraternity. 

",At  last  he  encountered  his  son,  grown  into  a  youth, 
and,  yielding  to  some  remnant  of  good  promptings,  he 
undertook  his  education.  Yet,  even  in  this,  the  innate 
weakness  of  the  priest  could  not  be  altogether  hidden. 
Instead  of  labouring  only  for  the  child's  good,  he  would 
sit  musing  and  gloating  for  hours  upon  his  kinship  to 
him.  Bereft  by  his  sacred  calling  of  the  right  to  call 
himself  '  father,'  he  nevertheless  was  filled  with  fleshly 
delight  whenever  he  looked  upon  his  son. 

"  Now  the  priest's  brother,  on  his  death-bed,  believing 
that  this  false  priest  had  deceived  him  as  to  which  child 
was  his  own  —  all  who  met  him  thus  suspected  him  of 
evil  —  left  all  his  wealth  to  the  child  that  in  reality  was 
the  priest's.  Endowed  with  some  wealth,  the  priest's 
son  set  out  upon  his  travels  to  complete  his  education. 
And  what  was  the  first  lesson  that  he  mastered  ? 

11  He  became  an  infidel !      No  more,  no  less  ! 

"  On  his  return  he  opened  the  eyes  of  the  reprobate, 
his  father,  to  the  fact  that  he  also  had  been  an  infidel 
from  the  first,  an  infidel  in  heart,  but  not  avowed. 

"  In  the  priest's  absence,  a  few  weeks  later,  his  son, 
with  the  odour  of  atheism,  and  mistaken — as  fate  would 
have  it  —  for  a  Socialist  and  Iconoclast,  was  found  with 
the  long-lost  letter  upon  him,  left  him  by  his  mother  in 
a  casket.  This  sealed  his  fate.  He  was  thought  to  have 

476 


THE   PAGAN   AT   THE   SHRINE 

intercepted  the  despatches  of  our  Company.  Powerful 
influences  were  cast  in  the  scale  against  him.  Three 
nights  ago  he  murdered  a  captain  of  Civil  Guards. 

"  This  morning,  soon  after  sunrise,  he  was  shot." 

At  this  point  there  were  several  among  the  congre- 
gation who  noticed  that  the  Rector's  face  had  become 
even  yet  more  pallid,  his  eyes  dilated  as  with  some 
awful  vision  that  seemed  to  have  frozen  his  very  brain. 

The  last  words  he  had  spoken  almost  in  a  whisper, 
yet  so  piercing  and  so  terribly  distinct  that  not  one 
person  present  had  lost  its  meaning. 

He  now  came  down  from  the  pulpit,  and  kneeling 
with  the  altar  to  his  right  hand,  so  that  the  glare  of  the 
candles  fell  upon  his  white  face  and  black  robes,  he 
raised  something  in  his  hand  towards  the  crucifix. 

"This,"  cried  he  in  an  awful  voice,  "is  the  letter!  7 
am  that  false  priest." 

Only  for  a  moment  did  he  hold  the  letter  above  his 
head,  for,  his  fingers  relaxing,  it  fluttered  from  his 
.grasp.  Then,  with  his  arms  outstretched,  the  Rector 
fell  forward  upon  his  face. 

The  Christ,  with  His  array  of  bright  candles  to  right 
and  left,  looked  pityingly  down  upon  the  prostrate  form 
below  for  a  few  moments  before  any  one  could  shake 
off  the  stupefaction  that  pervaded  the  very  air.  Then, 
one  of  the  priests,  a  physician,  sprang  to  the  Rector's 
side,  and,  together  with  the  Civil  Guard,  bent  over  him, 
turning  him  round  and  placing  his  hand  upon  his  heart. 

Padre  Martinez  came  slowly  forward,  and  said  some- 
thing with  his  pale  lips,  whereat  the  other  Jesuit  shook 
his  head. 

Then  Padre  Martinez,  seeing  that  many  of  the  Jesuits 
had  risen,  murmuring  with  wonder,  and  were  moving 
from  their  places,  waved  them  back,  crying,  in  a  voice 
which  had  a  new  ring  of  full  authority  — 

477 


THE   PAGAN    AT   THE   SHRINE 

"  Let  there  be  no  disorder  in  this  place  !  May  the 
Holy  Mother  of  Christ  have  mercy  upon  the  soul  of  this 
unhappy  man  !  Let  the  organ  play,  and  let  the  choir 
sing  a  solemn  requiem." 

The  last  faint  streak  of  red  had  melted  from  the  sky 
when  this  requiem  rose  swelling  from  the  chapel,  and, 
trembling  in  mid-air,  was  met  by  las  dnimas,  which 
came  booming  across  from  the  Cathedral  of  Santa  Fe, 
calling  to  the  dark  vega,  "  Pray  !  Pray  for  the  soul  of 
Ignacio ! " 


478 


THE  VIRGINIAN 

A  HORSEMAN  OF  THE  PLAINS 
By  OWEN  WISTER 

Author   of    "Lin    McLean,"    "  U.   S.   Grant:   a.   Biography"  etc. 

With  eight  full-page  illustrations  by  ARTHUR  I.  KELLER 

Cloth  12mo  $1.50 


"There  is  not  a  page  in  Mr.  Wister's  new  book  which  is  not  interesting. 
This  is  its  first  great  merit,  that  it  arouses  the  sympathy  of  the  reader  and 
holds  him  absorbed  and  amused  to  the  end.  It  does  a  great  deal  more  for 
him.  .  .  .  Whoever  reads  the  first  page  will  find  it  next  to  impossible  to  put 
the  book  down  until  he  has  read  every  one  of  the  five  hundred  and  four  in 
the  book,  and  then  he  will  wish  there  were  more  of  them." 

—  The  New  York  Tribune. 

"  Mr.  Wister  has  drawn  real  men  and  real  women,  and  a  day  that 
America  has  centuries  of  reason  for  pride  in,  now  passing  away  forever.  .  .  . 
No  one  writes  of  the  frontier  with  more  interest  than  this  young  Philadelphia 
author,  and  no  one  writes  literature  more  essentially  American.  In  The  Vir- 
ginian he  has  put  forth  a  book  that  will  be  remembered  and  read  with  inter- 
est for  many  years  hence.  May  he  soon  write  another  as  good !  " 

—  The  Chicago  American. 

"  Mr.  Wister  is  an  engaging  story  teller.  His  descriptions  are  always 
graphic,  and  he  increases  his  reputation  for  narrative  bristling  with  American- 
ism in  this  volume.  He  knows  the  West  by  long  and  intimate  personal  con- 
tact, and  he  brings  to  his  subject  a  depth  of  appreciation  and  understanding 
unsurpassed  by  any  other  writer  who  has  chosen  the  Far  West  as  a  theme  in 
fiction.  .  .  .  The  story  is  human  and  alive.  It  has  the  '  touch  and  go '  of 
the  vibrating  life  of  the  expansive  American  West  and  puts  the  country  and 
the  people  vividly  before  the  reader." 

—  Philadelphia  Times'  Saturday  Review. 


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THE  FOUR  FEATHERS 

By  A.  E.  W.  MASON 
Author  of  "  The  Courtship  of  Morrice  Buckler" 

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"'The  Four  Feathers'  is  a  novel  of  no  ordinary  type;  it  stands 
out  clearly  from  amongst  the  hosts  that  overwhelm  us  yearly  at  this 
season.  It  is  an  ordinary  formula  of  praise  to  say  that  the  author 
has  a  grip  of  his  subject ;  it  is  seldom  that,  as  in  this  case,  the  author 
has  allowed  his  subject  to  grip  him,  and  that  without  losing  his  bal- 
ance. .  .  .  For  a  book  such  as  this  the  reader  can  only  be  truly 
thankful,  hoping  that  the  author  may  long  continue  thus  to  give  us 
of  his  best."  —  The  London  Guardian. 

"  Mr.  Mason  is  too  good  a  writer  to  be  thoroughly  appreciated  by 
the  rank  and  file  of  novel  readers.  But  there  was,  in  the  book 
quoted,  that  eerie  quality  which  was  the  distinguishing  trait  of 
Stevenson's  books,  and  there  was  in  addition  to  this  a  compelling 
directness  of  movement  which  not  even  Stevenson  ever  attained." 

—  St.  Louis  Globe  Democrat. 

"The  book  is  out  of  the  common  run  of  present-day  fiction, 
welcome,  above  all,  for  a  refreshing  note  of  sterling  manliness,  of  the 
loyalty  of  men  of  honor  toward  each  other,  for  its  interpretation  of 
the  fine  meaning  of  the  old  English  expression,  'a  soldier  and  a 
gentleman.'"  —  N.  Y.  Mail  and  Express. 

"  To  those  to  whom  The  Black  Hole  of  Calcutta  suggests  the 
quintessence  of  cruel  imprisonment,  the  description  of  The  House 
of  Stone  at  Omdurman  in  A.  E.  W.  Mason's  'The  Four  Feathers' 
cannot  fail  to  appeal  as  a  far  more  terrible  place  of  incarceration. 
.  .  .  From  beginning  to  end  the  books  holds  one's  keenest  interest. 
It  is  carefully,  even  daintily  written  in  parts,  and  woven  with  it  is  a 
thread  of  touching  romance."  —  N.  Y.  Evening  Post. 


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CECILIA 

A  STORY  OF  MODERN  ROME 

By  F.  MARION  CRAWFORD 

Author  of  "  Saraclaesca,"  "Marietta,"  Etc.,  Etc. 

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"  The  love  story,  which  is  the  dominating  interest  throughout,  is 
so  strange  and  novel  a  one  that  many  readers  will,  we  think,  com- 
pare it  with  -  Mr.  Isaacs,'  the  author's  first  and  most  popular  book. 
.  .  .  Mr.  Crawford  will,  we  think,  be  held  to  have  scored  a  new  and 
distinct  success  in  this  story."  —  The  Philadelphia  North  American. 

"  In  '  Cecilia '  Mr.  Crawford  takes  us  once  more  into  the  Roman 
society  which  he  knows  so  well,  and  which  he  has  again  and  again 
deftly  delineated.  Here  once  more  he  uses  in  fresh  and  effective 
fashion  facts  or  fictions  from  the  debatable  borderland  between  the 
provinces  of  ascertained  science  and  occult  lore.  .  .  .  'Cecilia'  is  in 
every  way  worthy  of  its  author's  reputation."  —  The  Athenaum. 


THE  HENCHMAN 

By  MARK   LEE  LUTHER 

Author  of  "  The  Favor  of  Princes,"  Btc. 

Cloth     i2mo     $1.50 

"  Ranks  with  the  most  entertaining  political  novels." 

—  New  York  Mail  and  Express, 

"  It  is  essentially  a  powerful  story  .  .  .  and  wonderfully  realistic." 
—  New  York  Times''  Saturday  Review. 

"  The  story  is  worth  a  man's  time  to  read."  —  Boston  Herald. 


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